A 



;^ISTORY OF NEW YORK, 



FROM THE 



BEGINNING OF THE WORLD TO THE END 
OF THE DUTCH DYNASTY, 



CONTAINING, AMONG MANY SURPRISING AND CURIOUS MATTERS, THE 
UNUTTERA "E PONDERINGS OF WALTER THE DOUBTER, THE 
DISASTR' PROJECTS OF WILLIAM, THE TESTY, AND THE 

CHIVALiviC ACHIEVEMENTS OF PETER, THE HEAD- 
STRONG — THE THREE DUTCH GOVERNORS OF NEW 
AMSTERDAM; BEING THE ONLY AUTHENTIC 
HISTORY OF THE TIMES THAT EVER HATH 
BEEN, OR EVER WILL BE PUBLISHED. 



BY 



DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER, j 

1 



De waarheid die in duister lag, 

De koDit mit klaarheid aau den dag. 



CHICAGO, NEW YORK, AND SAN FRANCISCO: 
BELFORD, CLARKE & CO., 

Publishers. 

/ r .r ,f ; 






.1 






TH0W8 

fHINTING AND BOOKB<NDINQ COMPAWL 

NEW YORK. 



A HISTOET OF ^TEW-TOEK 



CONTENTS. 



ount of the Author 9 

£■ .-ess to the Public 17 

BOOK I. 

TAINING DIVERS INGENIOUS THEORIES AND PHILOSOPHIC 
^PECULATIONS, CONCERNING THE CREATION AND POPULATION 
P THE WORLD, AS CONNECTED WITH THE HISTORY OF NEW- 
ORK. 

CTJAP. PAGE 

I.— Description of the World 23 

n.— Cosmogony, or Creation of the World; with a multitude of excellent 
theories, by which the creation of a world is shown to oe no such diffi- 
cult matter as common folk would imagine 28 

ni.— How that famous navigator. Noah, was shamefully nick-named; and 
how he committed an unpardonable oversight, in not having four sons. 
With the great trouble of philosophers caused thereby, and the dis- 
covery of America 34 

IV.— Showing the great difficulty philosophers have had in peopling America 
—and how the Aborigines came to be begotten by accident— to the 

great relief and satisfaction of the Author 38 

v.— In which the Author puts a mighty question to the rout, by the assistance t 
of the i^'^an in the Moon— which not only delivers thousands of people 
from great embarrassment, but likewise concludes this introductory 
book 48 

BOOK n. 

TREATING OF THE FIRST SETTLEMENT OF THE PROVINCE OP 
NIEUW-NEDERLANDTS, 
I.— In which are contained divers reasons why a man should not write in a 
hurry. Also, of Master Hendrick Hudson, his discovery of a strange 
country—and how he was magnificently rewarded by the munificence 

of their High Mightinesses 65 

n.— Containing an accoimt of a mighty Ark. which floated, under the protec- 
tion of St. Nicholas, from Holland to Gibbet Island— the descent of the 
strange Animals therefrom— a great victory, and a description of the 
ancient village of Communipaw 68 



CONTENTS. 



CHAP. 



PAGE 



III.— In which is set forth the true art of making a bargain— together with the 
miraculous escape of a great Metropolis in a fog— and the biography 
of certain Heroes of Communipaw 67 

IV.— How the Heroes of Communipaw voyaged to Hell-Gate, and how they 

were received there 7-2 

v.— How the Heroes of Communipaw returned somewhat wiser than they 
•yvent— and how the sage Oloffe dreamed a dream— and the dream that 
he dreamed 79 

VI.— Coutaining an attempt at etymology— and of the founding of the great 

city of New- Amsterdam 8J. 

VII.— How the city of New-Amsterdam waxed great, imder the protection of 

Oloffe the Dreamer 88 

BOOK III. 

IN WHICH IS RECORDED THE GOLDEN REIGN OF WOUTER VAN 

TWILLER. 

I.— Of the renowned Walter Van Twiller. his unparalleled virtues — and like- 
wise his unutterable wisdom in the law case of Wandle Schoonhoven 
and Barent Bleecker— and the great admiration of the public thereat.. 93 
II.— Containing sume account of the grand council of New-Amsterdam, as 
also divers especial good philosophical reasons why an alderman should 

be fat— with other particulars touching the state of the province 98 

HI.— How the town of New- Amsterdam arose out of mud, and came to be 
marvellously polished and polite— together with a picture of the man- 
ners of our great-gi-eat-grandf athers 105 

rV.— Containing further particulars of the Golden Age— and what constituted 

a fine Lad}^ and Gentleman in the days of Walter the Doubter 110 

v.— In which the reader Is beguiled into a delectable walk, which ends very 

differently from what it commenced 114 

VI.— Faithfully describing the ingenious people of Connecticut and thereabouts 
—showing, moreover, the true meaning of liberty of conscience, and a 
cuiious device anions; these sturdy barbarians, to keep up a harmony 

of intercourse, and promote population 118 

VII.— How these singular barbarians turned out to be notorious squatters- 
how they built air castles, and attempted to initiate the Nederlanders 

in the mystery of Imndling 122 

Vin.— How the Fort Goed Hoop was fearfully beleaguered— how the renowned 

Wouter fell into a profound doubt, and how he finally evaporated 126 

BOOK IV. ' 

CONTAINING THE CHRONICLES OF THE REIGN OF WILLIAM THE 

TESTY. 

I.— Showing the nature of history in general; containing furthermore the 
universal acquirements of William the Testy, and how a man may 

learn so much as to render himself good for nothing 131 

II.— In which are recorded the sage projects of a ruler of universal genius— 
the art of fighting by proclamation— and how that the valiant Jacobus 

Van Curlet came to be foully di.slionoured at Fort Goed Hoop 138 

ni.— Containing the fearful wrath of William the Testy, and the great dolour 
of the New-Amsterdamers, because of the affair of Fort Goed IToop 
—and, moreover, how William the Testy did strongly fortify the city- 
together with the exploits of StofiEel Brinkerhofif 143 



CONTENTS. 5 

CHAP, PACK 

IV.— Philosophical reflections on the folly of being happy in times of prosper- 
ity—sundry troubles on the southern frontiers— how William the Testy 
' had well-nigh ruined the province through a cabalistic word — as also 
the secret expedition of Jan Jansen Alpendam, and his astonishing 

reward 149 

V. — How William the Testy enriched the province by a multitude of laws, and 

came to be the patron of lawyers and bum-bailiffs— and how the people 

became exceedingh^ enlightened and unhappy under his instructions.. 155 

VI.— Of the great pipe plot— and of the dolourous perplexities into which 

William the Testy was thrown, by reason of his having enlightened the 

multitude 160 

VII.— Containing divers fearful accounts of Border Wars, and the flagrant out- 
rages of the Mosstroopers of Connecticut— with the rise of the great 
Amphyctionic Council of the east, and the decline of William the 
Testy 165 

BOOK V. 

CONTAINING THE FIRST PART OF THE REIGN OF PETER STUY- 
VESANT, AND HIS TROUBLES WITH THE AMPHYCTIONIC COUNCIL. 

I.— In which the death of a great man is shown to be no very inconsolable 
matter of sorrow— and how Peter Stuyvesant acquired a great name 

from the uncommon strength of his head 172 

II.— Showing how Peter the Headstrong bestirred himself among the rats and 
cobwebs on entering into office— and the perilous mistake he was guilty 

of in his dealings with the Amphyctions 177 

III.— Containing divers speculations on war and negotiations— showing that a 

treaty of peace is a great national evil 181 

rv.— How Peter Stuyvesant was greatly belied by his adversaries, the Moss- 
troopers—and his conduct thereupon 185 

v.— How the New-Amsterdamers became great in arms, and of the direful 
catastrophe of a mighty army— together with Peter Stuy%^esant's 
measures to fortifi" the city, and how he was the original founder of 

the Battery 191 

VI.— How the people of the east country were suddenly afflicted with a dia- 
bolical evil, and their judicious measures for the extirpation thereof. . 196 
Vn.— Which records the rise and renown of a valiant commander, showing 
that a man, like a bladder, may be puffed up to greatness and import- 
ance by mere wind 200 

BOOK VI. 

CONTAINING THE SECOND PART OF THE REIGN OF PETER THE 
HEADSTRONG, AND HIS GALLANT ACHIEVEMENTS ON THE DEL- 
AWARE. 

I.— In which is exhibited a warlike portrait of the great Peter— and how 

General Van Poifenburgh distinguished himself at Fort Casimir 207 

n.— Showing how profound secrets are often brought to light; with the pro- 
ceedings of Peter the Headstrong when he heard of the misfortunes of 

Genei-al Van Poffenburgh 214 

UI.— Containing Peter Stuyvesant's voyage up the Hudson, and the wonders 

and delights of that renowned river 2;j0 



Q CONTENTS. 

CHAP. PAOB 

IV.— Describing the powerful army that assembled at the city of New- Amster- 
dam— together with the interview between Peter the Headstrong and 
General Van Pofifenburgh, and Peter's sentiments touching unfortunate 

great men 225 

v.— In which tlie author discourses very ingenuously of himself— after which 
is to be found much interesting history about Peter the Headstrong 

and liis followers 230 

Y[,_Showing the great advantage that the author has over his reader in time 
of battle— together with divers portentous movements, which betoken 

that something terrible is about to happen 236 

,11.— Containing the most horrible battle ever recorded in poetry or prose— 

with the admirable exploits of Peter the Headstrong 241 

VTII.- In which the author and the reader, while reposing after the battle, fall 
into a very grave discourse— after which is recorded the conduct of 
Peter Stuyvesaiit after his victory 249 

BOOK vn. 

CONTAINING THE THIRD PART OP THE REIGN OF PETER THE 
HEADSTRONG — HIS TROUBLES WITH THE BRITISH NATION, AND 
THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE DUTCH DYNASTY. 

I.— How Peter Stuyvesant relieved the sovereign people from the burthen of 
taking care of the nation— with sundry particulars of his conduct in 

time of peace 256 

II.— How Peter Siuy vpsant was much molested by the Mosstroopers of the 
East, and the Giants of Merryland— and how a dark and horrid con- 
spiracy was carried on in the British Cabinet against the prosperity of 

the Manhattoes 264 

ni.— Of Peter Stuy vesant's expedition into the East Country— showing that, 

though an old bird, he did not understand trap 269 

rV.— How the people of New- Amsterdam were thrown into a great panic by 
the news of a threatened invasion, and the manner in which they for- 
tified themselves 276 

v.— Showing how the grand Council of the New-Netherlands came to be mir- 
aculously gifted with long tongues— together with a great triumph of 

Economy 278 

VI.— In which the troubles of New-Amsterdam appear to thicken— showing 
the bravery in time of peril of a people who defend themselves by 

resolutions 282 

VII.— Containing a doleful disaster of Antony the Trumpeter— and how Peter 
Stuyvesant, like a second Cromwell, suddenly dissolved a rump Par- 
liament 289 

Vrill.— How Peter Stuyvesant defended the city of New- Amsterdam, for several 

days, by dint of the strength of his head 293 

IX.— Containing the dignified retirement, and mortal surrender, of Peter the 

Headstrong 299 

X.— The Author's reflections upon what has been said 303 



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ACOOITNT OF THE AUTHOR 



It was some time, if I recollect right, in the early part of thfj 
autumn of 1808, that a stranger applied for lodgings at the 
Independent Columbian Hotel in Mulberry-street, of which I 
am landlord. He was a small, brisk-looking old gentleman, 
dressed in a rusty black coat, a pair of olive velvet breeches, 
and a small cocked hat. He had a few gray hairs plaited and 
clubbed behind, and his beard seemed to be of some eight-and- 
forty hours' growth. The only piece of finery which he bore 
about him, was a bright pair of square silver shoe-buckles, 
and all his baggage was contained in a pair of saddle-bags, 
which he carried under his arm. His whole appearance was 
something out of the common run ; and my wife, who is a very 
shrewd body, at once set him down for some eminent country 
schoolmaster. 

As the Independent Columbian Hotel is a very smaU house, 
I was a little puzzled at first where to put him ; but my wife, 
who seemed taken with his looks, would needs put him in her 
best chamber, wliich is genteelly set off with the profiles of the 
whole family, done in black, by those two great painters, Jar- 
vis and Wood ; and commands a very pleasant view of the new 
gi'ounds on the Collect, together with the rear of the Poor- 
House and Bridewell, and a full front of the Hospital ; so that 
it is the cheerfulest room in the whole house. 

During the whole time that he stayed with us, we found him 
a very worthy, good sort of an old gentleman, though a httle 
queer in his ways. He would keep in his room for days to- 
gether, and if any of the children cried, or made a noise about 
his door, he would bounce out in a great passion, with his 
hands full of papers, and say something about ' ' deranging his 
ideas ;" wliich made my wife believe sometimes that he was 
not altogether compos. Indeed, there was more than one rea- 
son to make her think so, for his room was always covered 
with scraps of paper and old mouldy books, laying about at 



jQ A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

sixes and sevens, which he would never let any body toucb; 
^ for he said he had laid them all away in their proper places, so 
that he might know where to find them; though for that mat- 
ter he was half his time worrying about the house in search of 
some book or writing which he had carefully put out of the 
way. I shall never forget what a pother he once made, be- 
cause my wife cleaned out his room when his back was turned, 
and put every thing to rights; for he swore he would never be 
able to get his papers in order again in a twelvemonth. Upon 
this my wife ventured to ask him what he did with so many 
books and papers? and he told her that he was "seeking for 
immortality ;" which made her think, more than ever, that the 
poor old gentleman's head was a little cracked. 

He was a very inquisitive body, and when not in his room 
was continually poking about town, hearing all the news, and 
prying into every thing that was going on : this was particularly 
the case about election tune, when he did nothing but bustle 
about from poU to poll, attending all ward meetings and com- 
mittee rooms; though I could never find that he took part 
with either side of the question. On the contrary, he would 
come home and rail at both parties with great wrath— and 
plainly proved one day, to the satisfaction of my wife and 
three old ladies who were drinking tea with her, that the two 
parties were like two rogues, each tugging at a skirt of the 
nation; and that in the end they would tear the very coat off 
its back, and expose its nakedness. Indeed, he was an oracle 
among the neighbours, who would collect around him to hear 
him talk of an afternoon, as he smoked his pipe on the bench 
before the door; and I really believe he would have brought 
over the whole neighbourhood to his own side of the question, 
if they could ever have found out what it was. 

He was very much given to argue, or as he called it, philoso- 
phize, about the most trifling matter; and to do him justice, I 
never knew any body that was a match for him, except it was 
1 grave-looking old gentleman who called now and then to see 
iiim, and often posed him in an argument. But this is nothing 
surprising, as I have since found out this stranger is the city 
librarian; and, of course, must be a man of great learning: 
and I have my doubts, if he had not some hand in the follow- 
ing history. 

As om- lodger had been a long time with us. and we had 
never received any, pay, my wife began to be somewhat un- 
easy, and curious to find out who and what he was. She ac 



ACCOUNT OF TEE AUTHOR. \\ 

cordingly made bold to put the question to his friend, the 
librarian, who replied in his dry way that he was one of the 
literate which she supposed to mean some new party in poli- 
tics. I scorn to push a lodger for his pay ; so I let day after 
day pass on without dmming the old gentleman for a farthing: 
but my wife, who always takes these matters on herself, and 
is, as I said, a shrewd kind of a woman, at last got out of pa- 
tience, and hinted, that she thought it high time " some people 
should have a sight of some people's money. " To which the 
eld gentleman replied, in a mighty touchy manner, that she 
need not make herself uneasy, for that he had a treasure there, 
(pointing to his saddle-bags,) worth her whole house put to- 
gether. This was the only answer we could ever get from 
him ; and as my wife, by some of those odd ways in which 
women find out every thing, learnt that he was of very great 
connexions, being related to the Knickerbockers of Scaghti- 
koke, and cousin-german to the Congressman of that name, 
she did not like to treat him uncivilly. What is more, she 
even offered, merely by way of making things easy, to let him 
live scot-free, if he would teach the children their letters ; and 
to try her best and get her neighbours to send their children 
also; but the old gentleman took it in such dudgeon, and 
seemed so affronted at being taken for a schoolmaster, that 
she never dared speak on the subject again. 

About two months ago, he went out of a morning, with a 
bundle in his hand — and has never been heard of smce. All 
kinds of inquiries were made after him, but in vain. I wrote 
to his relations at Scaghtikoke, but they sent for answer, that 
he had not been there since the year before last, when he had 
a great dispute with the Congressman about politics, and left 
the place in a huff, and they had neither heard nor seen any 
thing of him from that time to this. I must own I felt very 
much worried about the poor old gentleman, for I thought 
something bad must have happened to him, that he should be 
missing so long, and never return to pay his bill. I therefore 
advertised him in the newspapers, and though my melancholy 
advertisement was pubhshed by several humane printers, yet 
I have never been able to learn any thing satisfactory about 
Mm. 

My wife now said it was high time to take care of om-selves, 
and see if he had left any thing behind in his room, that v/ould 
pay us for his board and lodging. We found nothing, how- 
ever, but some old books and musty writings, and his saddle- 



12 A niSTORT Oh NEW-TORK. 

bags, which, being opened in the presence of the librarian, 
contained only a few articles of worn-out clothes, and a large 
bundle of blotted paper. On looking over this, the librarian 
told us, he had no doubt it was the treasure which the old gen- 
tleman had spoke about ; as it proved to be a most excellent 
and faithful History of New-York, which he advised us by 
all means to publish : assuring us that it would be so eagerly 
bought up by a discerning pubHc, that he had no doubt it 
would be enough to pay our arrears ten times over. Upon 
this we got a very learned schoolmaster, who teaches our cliil- 
dren, to prepare it for the press, which he accordingly has 
done; and has, moreover, added to it a number of valuable 
notes of his own. 

This, therefore, is a true statement of my reasons for having 
this work printed, without waiting for the consert of the 
author : and I here declare, that if he ever returns, (though I 
much fear some unhappy accident has befallen him,) I stand 
ready to account with him like a true and honest nan. Which 
is all at present. 

From the pubhc's humble Serv't, 

Seth Hand aside. 

Independent Columbian Hotel, New- York. 



The foregoing account of the author was prefixed to the first 
edition of this work. Shortly after its publication a letter was 
received from him, by Mr. Handaside, dated at a small Dutch 
village on the banks of the Hudson, whither he had travelled 
for the purpose of inspecting certain ancient records. As this 
was one of those few and happy villages into which newspa- 
pers never find their way, it is not a matter of surprise, that 
Mr. Knickerbocker should never have seen the numerous ad- 
vertisements that were made concerning him; and that he 
should learn of the pubhcation of his history by mere accident. 

He expressed much concern at its premature appearance, as 
thereby he was prevented from making several important cor- 
rections and alterations ; as well as from profiting by many 
curious hints which he had collected during his travels along 
the shores of the Tappaan Sea, and his sojourn at Haverstraw 
and Esopus. 

Finding that there was no longer any immediate necessity 
for his return to New- York, he extended his journey up to the 



ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR. 13 

residence of his relations at Scaghtikoke. On his way thither, 
he stopped for some days at Albany, for which city he is 
known to have entertained a great partiality. He found it, 
however, considerably altered, and was much concerned at 
the ini*oads and improvements which the Yankees were mak- 
ing, and the consequent dechne of the good old Dutch man- 
ners. Indeed, he was informed that these intruders were 
making sad innovations in all parts of the State ; where they 
had given great trouble and vexation to the regular Dutch 
settlers, by the introduation of turnpike gates and country 
school-houses. It is said also, that Mr. Knickerbocker shook 
his head sorrowfully at noticing the gradual decay of the great 
Vander Hey den palace ; but was highly indignant at finding 
that the ancient Dutch church, which stood in the middle of 
the street, had been pulled down, since his last visit. 

The fame of Mr. Ejiickerbocker's history having reached 
even to Albany, he received much flattering attention from 
its worthy burghers, some of whom, however, pointed out 
two or three very great errors he had fallen into, particularly 
that of suspending a lump of sugar over the Albany tea-tables, 
which, they assured him, had been discontinued for some 
years past. Several famihes, moreover, were somewhat 
piqued that their ancestors had not been mentioned in his 
work, and showed great jealousy ^f their neighbours who 
had thus been distinguished ; while the latter, it must be con- 
fessed, plumed themselves vastly thereupon: considering these 
recordings in the light of letters-patent of nobihty, estabhsh- 
ing their claims to ancestry — which, in this repubhcan coun- 
try, is a matter of no little sohcitude and vain-glory. 

It is also said, that he enjoyed high favour and countenance 
from the governor, who once asked him to dinner, and was 
seen two or three times to shake hands with him, when they 
met in the street; which certainly was going great lengths, 
considering that they differed in politics. Indeed, certain 
of the governor's confidential friends, to whom he could ven- 
ture to speak his mind freely on such matters, have assured 
us, that he privately entertained a considerable good-wiU for 
our author — nay, he even once went so far as to declare, and 
that openly, too, and at his own table, just after dinner, that 
" Knickerbocker was a very well-meaning sort of an old gen- 
tleman, and no fool." From aU which, many have been led to 
suppose, that had our author been of different politics, and 
written for the newspapers, instead of wasting his talents on 



14 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

histories, he might have risen to some post of honour and 
profit : perad venture, to be a notary pubUc, or even a justice 
in the Ten Pound Court. 

Beside the honours and civilities already mentioned, he was 
much caressed by the literati of Albany ; particularly by Mr. 
John Cook, who entertained him very hospitably at his circu- 
lating library and reading-room, where they used to drink Spa 
"vvater, and talk about the ancients. He found Mr. Cook a man 
after his own heart— of great literary research, and a curious 
collecter of books. At parting, the latter, in testimony of 
friendship, made him a present of the two oldest works in his 
collection; which were the earliest edition of the Heidelberg 
Catecliism, and Adrian Yander Donck's famous account of the 
New-Netherlands; by the last of which, Mr. Knickerbocker 
profited greatly in this his second edition. 

Having passed some time very agreeably at Albany, our 
author proceeded to Scaghtikoke ; where, it is but justice to 
say, he was received with open arms, and treated with won- 
derful loving-kindness. He was much looked up to by the 
family, being the first historian of the name ; and was consid- 
ered almost as great a man as his cousin the Congressman — 
with whom, by-the-bye, he became perfectly reconciled, and 
contracted a strong friendship. 

In spite, however, of the kindness of Ms relations, and their 
great attention to his comforts, the old gentleman soon became 
restless and discontented. His history being published, he had 
no longer any business to occupy his thoughts, or any scheme 
to excite his hopes and anticipations. This, to a busy mind 
like liis, was a truly deplorable situation ; and, had he not been 
a man of inflexible morals and regular habits, there would 
have been great danger of his taking to politics, or drinking 
— both which pernicious vices we daily see men driven to, by 
mere spleen and idleness. 

It is true, he sometimes employed himself in preparing a 
second edition of his history, wherein he endeavoured to correct 
and improve many passages with which he was dissatisfied, 
and to rectify some mistakes that had crept into it ; for he was 
particularly anxious that his work should be noted for its 
authenticity, which, indeed, is the very life and soul of his- 
tory. But the glow of composition had departed— he had to 
leave many places untouched, which he would fain have 
altered ; and even where he did make alterations, he seemed 
always in doubt whether they were for the better or the worse. 



ACCOUNT OF THE AUTUOB. 15 

After a residence of some time at Scaghtikoke, he began to 
reel a strong desire to return to New- York, which he ever re- 
garded with the warmest affection, not merely because it was 
his native city, but because he really considered it the very 
best city in the whole world. On his return, he entered into 
the full enjoyment of the advantages of a literary reputationo 
He was continually imi^ortuned to write advertisements, pe- 
titions, hand-bills, and productions of similar import; and, al- 
though he never meddled with the pubhc papers, yet had he 
the credit of writing innumerable essays, and smart things, 
that appeared on all subjects, and all sides of the question; 
in all which he was clearly detected " by his style." 

He contracted, moreover, a considerable debt at the post- 
ofl&ce, in consequence of the numerous letters he received from 
authors and printers sohciting his subscription; and he was 
applied to by every charitable society for yearly donations, 
which he gave very cheerfully, considering these applications 
as so many complinents. He was once invited to a great cor- 
poration dinner ; and was even twice summoned to attend as a 
juryman at the court of quarter sessions. Indeed, so renowned 
did he become, that he could no longer pry about, as formerly, 
in all holes and corners of the city, according to the bent of his 
humour, unnoticed and uninterrupted ; but several times when 
he has been sauntering the streets, on his usual rambles of 
observation, equipped with his cane and cocked hat, the little 
boys at play have been known to cry, ' ' there goes Diedrich !" 
—at which the old gentleman seemed not a little pleased, look- 
ing upon these salutations in the light of the praises of pos- 
terity. 

In a word, if we take into consideration all these various hon- 
ours and distinctions, together with an exuberant eulogium 
passed on him in the Port Folio — (with wliich, we are told, the 
old gentleman was so much overpowered, that he was sick for 
two or three days)— it must be confessed, that few authors have 
ever lived to receive such illustrious rewards, or have so com' 
pletely enjoyed in advance their own immortality. 

After his return from Scaghtikoke, Mr. Knickerbocker took 
up his residence at a httle rural retreat, which the Stuyvesants 
had granted him on the family domain, in gratitude for his 
honourable mention of their ancestor. It was pleasantly situ- 
ated on the borders of one of the salt marshes beyond Corlear's 
Hook: subject, indeed, to be occasionally overflowed, and 
much infested, in the sununer-time, with mosquitoes; but 



16 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

othGiwise very agreeable, producing abundant crops of salt 
grass and bulrushes. 

Here, we are sorry to say, the good old gentleman fell dan- 
gerously ill of a fever, occasioned by the neighbouring marshes. 
When he found his end approaching, he disposed of his worldly 
affairs, leaving the bulk of his fortune to the New York Histo- 
rical Society ; his Heidelberg Catechism, and Vander Donck's 
work to the city Hbrary; and his saddle-bags to Mr. Handa- 
side. He forgave all his enemies, — ^that is to say, all who bore 
any enmity towards him; for as to himself, he declared he 
died in good-will Avith all the world. And, after dictating sev- 
eral kind messages to his relations at Scaghtikoke, as well as to 
certain of our most substantial Dutch citizens, he expired in the 
arms of his friend the librarian. 

His remains were interred, according to his own request, 
in St. Mark's churchyard, close by the bones of his favorite 
hero, Peter Stuyvesant : and it is rumoured, that the Histori- 
cal Society have it in mind to erect a wooden monument to 
his memory in the Bowling-Green. 



TO THE PUBLIO, 



** To rescue from oblivion the memory of former incidents, and 
to render a just tribute of renown to the many great and won- 
derful transactions of our Dutch progenitors, Diedrich Knicker- 
bocker, native of the city of New- York, produces this historical 
essay. " * Like the Great Father of History, whose words I have 
just quoted, I treat of times long past, over which the twilight 
of uncertainty had already thrown its shadows, and the night 
of forgetfulness was about to descend for ever. With great 
solicitude had I long beheld the early history of this venerable 
and ancient city gradually sHpping from our grasp, trembhng 
on the lips of narrative old age, and day by day dropping piece- 
meal into the tomb. In a little while, thought I, and those 
reverend Dutch burghers, who serve as the tottering monu- 
ments of good old times, will be gathered to their fathers ; their 
children, engrossed by the empty pleasures or insignificant 
transactions of the present age, will neglect to treasure up the 
recollections of the past, and posterity will search in vain for 
memorials of the days of the Patriarchs. The origin of our 
city will be buried in eternal obhvion, and even the names 
and achievements of Wouter Yan Twiller, William Kieft, and 
Peter Stuyvesant, be enveloped in doubt and fiction, hke those 
of Eomulus and Remus, of Charlemagne, King Arthur, Rinal- 
do, and Godfrey of Bologne. 

Determined, therefore, to avert if possible this threatened 
misfortune, I industriously set myself to work, to gather 
together all the fragments of our infant history which still ex- 
isted, and like my revered prototype, Herodotus, where no 
written records could be found, I have endeavoured to continue 
the chain of history by well-authenticated traditions. 

In this arduous undertaking, which has been the whole busi- 

* Beloe's Herodotus. 



23 A IJISTOliY OF NEW- YORK. 

ness of a long and soHtary life, it is incredible the number of 
learned authors I have consulted; and all but to httle purpose. 
Strange as it may seem, though such multitudes of excellent 
works have been written about this country, there are none 
extant which give any full and satisfactory account of the 
early history of New- York, or of its three first Dutch Gover- 
nors. I have, however, gained much valuable and curious 
matter, from an elaborate manuscript written in exceeding 
pure and classic Low Dutch, excepting a few errors in orthog-, 
raphy, which was found in the archives of the Stuyvesant 
family. Many legends, letters, and other documents have I 
likewise gleaned, in my researches among the family chests 
and lumber garrets of our respectable Dutch citizens ; and I 
have gathered a host of well-authenticated traditions from 
divers excellent old ladies of my acquaintance, who requested 
that their names might not be mentioned. Nor must I neglect 
to acknowledge how greatly I have been assisted by that 
admirable and praiseworthy institution, the New- York His- 
torical Society, to which I here pubhcly return my sincere 
acknowledgments. 

In the conduct of this inestimable work, I have adopted no 
individual model ; but, on the contrary, have suuply contented 
myself with combining and concentrating the excellencies of 
the most approved ancient historians. Like Zenophon, I have 
maintained the utmost impartiality, and the strictest adherence 
to truth, throughout my history. I have enriched it, after the 
manner of Sallust, with various characters of ancient worthies, 
drawn at full length and faithfully coloured. I have seasoned 
it with profound political speculations like Thucydides, sweet- 
ened it with the graces of sentiment like Tacitus, and infused 
into the whole the dignity, the grandeur, and magnificence of 
Livy. 

I am aware that I shall incur the censure of numerous very 
learned and judicious critics, for indulging too frequently in 
the bold excursive manner of my favourite Herodotus. And to 
be candid, I have found it impossible always to resist the allure- 
ments of those pleasing episodes, which, like flowery banks and 
fragi-ant bowers, beset the dusty road of the historian, and en- 
tice him to turn aside, and refresh himself from his wayfaring. 
But I trust it will be found that I have always resumed my 
staff, and addressed myself to my weary journey with reno- 
vated spirits, so that both my readers and myself have been 
benefited by the relaxalation. 



TO THE PUBLIC. 19 

Indeed, though it has been my constant wish and uniform 
endeavour to rival Polybius himself, in observing the requisite 
unity of History, yet the loose and unconnected manner in 
which many of the facts herein recorded have come to hand, 
rendered such an attempt extremely difficult. This difficulty 
was hkeAvise increased, by one of the grand objects contempla* 
ted in my work, which was to trace the rise of sundry customs 
and institutions in this best of cities, and to compare them, 
when in the germ of infancy, with what they are in the present 
old age of knowledge and improvement. 

But the chief merit on which I value myself, and found my 
hopes for future regard, is that faithful veracity with which I 
have compiled this invaluable Uttle work ; carefully vdnnowing 
away the chaff of hypothesis, and discarding the tares of fable, 
which are too apt to spring up and choke the seeds of truth and 
wholesome knowledge. Had I been anxious to captivate the 
superficial throng, who skim like swallows over the surface of 
literature ; or had I been anxious to commend my writings to 
the pampered palates of Hterary epicures, I might have availed 
myself of the obscurity that overshadows the infant years of 
our city, to introduce a thousand pleasing fictions. But I have 
scrupulously discarded many a pithy tale and marvellous ad- 
venture, whereby the drowsy ear of summer indolence might 
be enthralled ; jealously maintaining that fidehty, gravity, and 
dignity, which should ever distinguish the historian. "For a 
writer of this class," observes an elegant critic, " must sustain 
the character of a wise man, writing for the instruction of pos- 
terity; one who has studied to inform himself well, who has 
pondered his subject with care, and addresses himself to our 
judgment, rather than to our imagination." 

Thrice happy, therefore, is this our renowned city, in having 
incidents worthy of swelling tlie theme of history ; and doubly 
thrice happy is it in having such a historian as myself to re- 
late them. For after all, gentle reader, cities of themselves, and, 
in fact, empires of themselves, are nothing without a historian. 
It is the patient narrator who records their prosperity as they 
rise— who blazons forth the splendour of their noontide meri- 
dian — who props their feeble memorials as they totter to decay 
— who gathers together their scattered fragments as they rot— 
and who piously, at length, collects their ashes into the mauso- 
leum of his work, and rears a monument that will transmit 
their renown to all succeeding ages. 

What has been the fate of many fair cities of antiquity. 



20 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

whose nameless ruins encumber the plains of Europe and Asia, 
and awaken the fruitless inquiry of the traveller? T^ey have 
sunk into dust and silence— they have perished from remem- 
brance, for want of a historian ! The philanthropist may weep 
over their desolation— the poet may wander among their 
mouldering arches and broken columns, and indulge the vision- 
ary flights of his fancy — but alas ! alas ! the modern historian, 
whose pen, hke my own, is doomed to confine itself to duU 
matter of fact, seeks in vain among their obli^^ous remains for 
some memorial that may tell the instinictive tale of their glory 
and their ruin. 

"Wars, conflagrations, deluges," says Aristotle, "destroy 
nations, and with them all their monuments, their discoveries, 
and theix vanities. The torch of science has more than once 
been extinguished and rekindled— a few individuals, who have 
escaped by accident, reunite the tliread of generations." 

The same sad misfortune which has happened to so many 
ancient cities, will happen again, and from the same sad cause, 
to nine-tenths of those which now flourisn on the face of the 
globe. With most of them, the time for recording their early 
history is gone by; their origin, their foundation, together 
with the eventfid period of their youth, are for ever buried in the 
rubbish of years ; and the same would have been the case "vyjth 
this fair portion of the "earth, if I had not snatched it from ob- 
scurity in the very nick of time, at the moment that those 
matters herein recorded were about entering into the wide- 
spread insatiable maw of oblivion — if I had not dragged them 
out, as it were, by the very locks, just as the monster's ada- 
mantine fangs were closing upon them for ever! And here 
have I, as before observed, carefully collected, collated, and 
arranged them, scrip and scrap, "ptmf en punt, gat en gat,^^ 
and commenced in this little work, a history to serve as r, 
foundation, on which other historians may hereafter raise a 
noble superstructure, swelling in process of time, until Knicker- 
hocker'^s Neiv- York may be equally voluminous with Gibbon'' s 
Rome, or Hume and SmoUetfs England ! 

And now indulge me for a moment, while I lay down my 
pen, skip to some little eminence at the distance of two or three 
hundred years ahead; and, casting back a bird's-eye glance 
over the waste of years that is to roll between, discover myself 
— little I !— at this moment the progenitor, prototype, and pro- 
cursor of them all, posted at the head of this host of literary 
worthies, with my book under my arm, and New- York on my 



TO TEE PUBLIC. 21 

back, pressing forward, like a gallant commander, to honour 
and immortality. 

Such are the vain-glorious imaginings that will now and 
then enter into the brain of the author — that irradiate, as with 
celestial Hght, his solitary chamber, cheering his weary spirits, 
and animating him to persevere in his labours. And I have 
freely given utterance to these rhapsodies, whenever they have 
occurred ; not, I trust, from an unusual spirit of egotism, but 
merely that the reader may for once have an idea, how an au- 
thor thinks and feels while he is writing — a kind of knowledge 
very rare and curious and much to be desired. 



A HISTOEY OF NEW-YORK 



By DIEDKICH KNICKERBOCKKB, 



jBi toaarf)£i'b hit fit Wstn lag, 

Miz komt mtt klaari):iil aan hm ijag. 



BOOK L 



CONTAINING DIVERS INGENIOUS THEORIES AND PHI- 
LOSOPHIC SPECULATIONS, CONCERNING THE CREA- 
TION AND POPULATION OF THE WORLD, AS CON- 
NECTED WITH THE HISTOR Y OF NEW YORK, 



CHAPTER I. 

DESCRIPTION OF THE WORLD. 

According to the best authorities, the world in which we 
dwell is a huge, opaque, reflecting, inanimate mass, floating in 
the vast ethereal ocean of infinite space. It has the form of 
an orange, being an oblate spheroid, curiously flattened at 
opposite parts, for the insertion of two imaginary poles, which 
are supposed to penetrate and unite at the centre ; thus forming 
an axis on which the mighty orange turns with a regular diur- 
nal revolution. 

The transitions of light and darkness, whence proceed the 
alternations of day and night, are produced by this diurnal 
revolution successively presenting the different pai-ts of the 
earth to the rays of the sun. The latter is, according to the 
best, that is to say, the latest accounts, a luminous or fiery 
body, of a prodigious magnitude, from which this world is 
driven by a centrifugal or repelling power, and to which it is 
drawn by a centripetal or attractive force, otherwise called the 



24 A BISTORT OF NEW- YORK 

attraction of gravitation ; the combination, or rather the coun- 
teraction, of these two opposing impulses producing a circular 
and annual revolution. Hence result the different seasons of 
the year, viz., spring, summer, autumn, and winter. 

This I beheve to be the most approved modern theory on the 
subject— though there be many philosophers who have enter- 
tained very different opinions ; some, too, of them entitled to 
much deference from their gi-eat antiquity and illustrious cha- 
racters. Thus it was advanced by some of the ancient sages, 
that the earth was an extended plain, supported by vast pillars ; 
and by others, that it rested on the head of a snake, or the back 
of a huge tortoise — but as they did not provide a resting place 
for either the pillars or the tortoise, the whole theory fell to 
the ground, for want of proper foundation. 

The Brahmins assert, that the heavens rest upon the earth, 
and the sun and moon swim therein like fishes in the water, 
moving from east to west by day, and gliding along the edge of 
the horizon to their original stations during the night ; * while, 
according to the Pauranicas of India, it is a vast plain, en- 
circled by seven oceans of milk, nectar, and other dehcious 
hquids; that it is studded with seven mountains, and orna- 
mented in the centre by a mountainous Tock of burnished gold; 
and that a great dragon occasionally swallows up the moon, 
which accounts for the phenomena of lunar echpses.f 

Beside these, and many other equally sage opinions, we 
have the profound conjectures of Aboul-Hassax-Aly, son of 
Al Khan, son of Aly, son of Abderrahman, son of Abdallah, 
son of Masoud-el-Hadheh, who is commonly called Masoudi, 
and surnamed Cothbiddin, but who takes the humble title of 
Laheb-ar-rasoul, which means the companion of the ambassa- 
dor of God. He has written a imiversal history, entitled 
" Mouroudge-ed-dharab, or the Golden Meadows, and the Mines 
of Precious Stones. ":t In this valuable work he has related 
the history of the world, from the creation down to the mo- 
ment of writing; which was under the Cahphate of Mothi 
Bdlah, in the month Dgioumadi-el-aoual of the 336th year of 
the Hegira or flight of the Prophet. He informs us that the 
earth is a huge bird, Mecca and Medina constituting the head, 
Persia and India the right wing, the land of Gog the left 
wing, and Africa the tail . He informs us, moreover, that an 

* Faria y Souza. Mick. Lus. note b. 7. 

t Sir W. Jones, Diss. Antiq. Ind. Zod. J MSS. Bibliot. Roi. Fr. 



A HISTORY OF NEWTORK. 25 

earth has existed before the present, (which he considers as 
a mere chicken of 7,000 years,) that it has undergone diver? 
deluges, and that, according to the opinion of some well- 
infonned Brahmins of his acquaintance, it will be renovated 
every 'seventy-thousandth hazaronam; each hazarouam con- 
sisting of 12,000 years. 

These are a few of the many contradictory opinions of phi« 
losophers concerning the earth, and we find that the learned 
have had equal perplexity as to the nature of the sun. Some 
of the ancient philosophers have affirmed that it is a vast wheel 
of brdliant fire ; * others, that it is merely a mirror or sphere of 
transparent crystal ; f and a third class, at the head of wJiom 
stands Anaxagoras, maintained that it was nothing but a huge 
ignited mass of iron or stone — indeed, he declared the heavens 
to be merely a vault of stone — and that the stars were stones 
whirled upward from the eai'th, and set on fire by the velocity 
of its revolutions, t But I give httle attention to the doctrines 
of this philosophsr, the people of Athens having fully refuted 
them, by banishing him from their city; a concise mode of 
answering unwelcome doctrines, much resorted to in former 
days. Another sect of philosophers do declare, that certain 
fiery particles exhale constantly from the earth, which, concen- 
trating in a single point of the firmament by day, constitute 
the sun, but being scattered and rambling about in the dark 
at night, collect in various points, and form stars. These are 
regularly burnt out and extinguished, not unlike to the lamps 
in our streets, and require a fresh supply of exhalations for the 
next occasion. § 

It is even recorded, that at certain remote and obscure 
periods, in consequence of a great scarcity of fuel, the sun^has 
been completely burnt out, and sometimes not rekindled for a 
month at a time ; — a most melancholy /h'cumstance, the very 
idea of which gave vast concern to Heraclitus, that worthy 
weeping philosopher of antiquity. In addition to these various 
speculations, it was the opinion of Herschel, that the sun is a 
magnificent, habitable abode; the light it furnishes arising 



* Plutarch de Placitis Philosoph. lib. iii. cap. 20. 

t Achill. Tat. Isag. cap, 19. Ap. Petav. t. iii. p. 81. Stob. Eclog. Phys. lib. i. p. 56L 
Plut. dePlac. Phi. 

X Diogenes Laertius in Anaxag. 1. ii. sec. 8. Plat. Apol. 1. 1. p. 26. Plut. de Plaa 
Philo. Xenoph. Mem 1. iv. p. 815. 

§ Aristot. Meteor. 1. ii. c. 2. Idem. Probl. sec. 15. Stob. Eel. Phys. 1. i. p. 55. 
Brack. Hist. Phil. t. i. p. 1154, &c. 



gg A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

from certain empyreal, luminous or phosphoric clouds, swim- 
ming m its transparent atmosphere.* 

But we will not enter farther at present into the nature of 
the sun, that being an inquiry not immediately necessary to 
the development of this history ; neither will we embroil our- 
selves in any more of the endless disputes of philosophers 
touching the form of this globe, but content ourselves with the 
theory advanced in the beginning of tliis chapter, and will pro- 
<ieed to illustrate, by experiment, the complexity of motion 
therein ascribed to this our rotatory planet. 

Professor Von Poddingcoft (or Puddinghead, as the name may 
be rendered into English) was long celebrated in the university 
of Leyden, for profound gravity of deportment, and a talent of 
going to sleep in the midst of examinations, to the infinite 
relief of his hopeful students, who thereby worked their way 
through college with great ease and httle study. In the course 
of one of his lectures, the learned professor, seizing a bucket of 
water, swung it round his head at arm's-length. The impulse 
with which he threw the vessel from hun being a centrifugal 
force, the retention of his arm operating as a centripetal 
power, and the bucket, wliich was a substitute for the earth, 
describing a circular orbit round about the globular head and 
ruby visage of Professor Von Poddingcoft, which formed no 
bad representation of the sun. All of these particulars were 
duly explained to the class of gaping students round him. He 
apprised them, moreover, that the same principle of gravitation, 
which retained the water in the bucket, restrains the ocean 
from flying from the earth in its rapid revolutions ; and he 
farther informed them, that should the motion of the earth be 
suddenly checked, it would incontinently fall into the sun, 
through the centripetal force of gravitation; a most ruinous 
event to this planet, and one which would also obscure, though 
it most probably would not extinguish, the solar luminary. 
An unlucky stripling, one of those vagrant geniuses who seem 
sent into the world merely to annoy worthy men of the pud- 
'dinghead order, desirous of ascertaining the correctness of the 
experiment, suddenly arrested the arm of the professor, just 
at the moment the bucket was in its zenith, which immedi- 
ately descended with astonishing precision upon the head of 
the philosopher. A hollow sound, and a red-hot hiss, attended 
the contact ; but the theory was in the amplest manner illus- 

* Philos. Trans 1795, p. 72 Idem. 1801, p. 265. Nich. Philos. Journ. i. p. 18. 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 07 

trated, for the unfortunate bucket perished in the conflict; but 
the blazing countenance of Professor Von Pocldingcoft emerged 
from amidst the waters, glowing fiercer than ever with un- 
utterable indignation, whereby the students were marvellously 
edified, and departed considerably wiser than before. 

It is a mortifying circumstance, which greatly perplexes 
many a philosopher, that Nature often refuses to second his 
efforts ; so that after having invented one of the most ingeni- 
ous and natural theories imaginable, she will have the per- 
verseness to act directly in the teeth of it. This is a manifest 
and unmerited grievance, since it throws the censure of the 
vulgar and unlearned entirely upon the philosopher ; whereas 
the fault is to be ascribed to dame Nature, who, with the pro- 
verbial fickleness of her sex, is continually indulging in coque- 
tries and caprices ; and who seems to take pleasure in violating 
all philosophic rules, and jilting the most learned and inde- 
fatigable of her adorers. Thus it happened with respect to the 
foregoing explanation of the motion of our planet ; it appears 
that the centrifugal force has long since ceased to operate, 
while its antagonist remains in undiminished potency: the 
world, therefore, ought, in strict propriety, to tumble into the 
sun; philosophers were convinced that it would do so, and 
awaited in anxious impatience the fulfilment of their prog- 
nostics. But the untoward planet pertinaciously continued 
her course, notwithstanding that she had reason, philosophy, 
and a whole university of learned professors, opposed to her 
conduct. The philosophers took this in very ill part, and it is 
thought they would never have pardoned the slight which 
they conceived put upon them by the world, had not a good- 
natured professor kindly officiated as a mediator between the 
parties and effected a reconcihation. 

Finding the world would not accommodate itself to the 
theory, he wisely accommodated the theory to the world : he 
informed his brother philosophers that the circular motion of 
the earth round the sun was no sooner engendered by the con- 
flicting impulses above described, than it became a regular 
revolution, independent of the causes which gave it origin. 
His learned brethren readily joined in the opinion, heartily 
glad of any explanation that would decently extricate them 
from their embarrassment — and ever since that era the world 
has been left to take her own course, and to revolve around 
the sun in such orbit as she thinks proper. 



28 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 



CHAPTER II. 

COSMOGONY, OR CREATION OF THE WORLD; WITH A MULTITUDE 
OF EXCELLENT THEORIES, BY WHICH THE CREATION OF A 
WORLD IS SHOWN TO BE NO SUCH DIFFICULT MATTER AS COM- 
MON FOLK WOULD IMAGINE. 

Having thus briefly introduced my reader to the world, and 
given hiin some idea of its form and situation, he will natu- 
rally be curious to know from whence it came, and how it was 
created. And, indeed, the clearing up of these points is abso- 
lutely essential to my history, inasmuch as if this world had 
not been formed, it is more than probable that this renowned 
island on which is situated the city of New- York, would never 
have had an existence. The regular course of my history, 
therefore, requires that I should proceed to notice the cosmo- 
gony, or formation of this our globe. 

And now I give my readers fair warning, that I am about to 
plunge, for a chapter or two, into as complete a labyrinth as 
ever historian was perplexed withal ; therefore, I advise them 
to take fast hold of my skirts, and keep close at my heels, 
venturing neither to the right hand nor to the left, l^est they 
get bemired in a slough of unintelligible learning, or have their 
brains knocked out by some of those hard Greek names which 
will be flying about in all directions. But should any of them 
be too indolent or chicken-hearted to accompany me in this 
perilous undertaking, they had better take a short cut round, 
and wait for me at the beginning of some smoother chapter. 

Of the creation of the world, we have a thousand contradic- 
tory accounts ; and though a very satisfactory one is furnished 
us by divine revelation, yet every philosopher feels himself in 
honour bound to furnish us with a better. As an impartial 
historian, I consider it my duty to notice their several theories, 
by which mankind have been so exceedingly edified and in- 
structed. 

Thus it was the opinion of certain ancient sages, that the 
earth and the whole system of the universe was the deity him- 
self ;* a doctrine most strenuously maintained by Zenophanes 
and the whole tribe of Eleatics, as also by Strabo and the sect 

* Aristot. ap. Cic. lib. i. cap. 3. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 29 

of peripatetic philosophers. Pythagoras Hkewise inculcated 
the famous numerical system of the monad, dyad, and triad, 
and by means of his sacred quaternary elucidated the forma- 
tion of the world, the arcana of nature, and the principles both 
of music and morals.* Other sages adhered to the mathe- 
matical system of squares and triangles ; the cube, the pyra- 
mid, and the sphere, the tetrahedron, the octahedron, the 
icosahedron, and the dodecahedron. t While others advocated 
the great elementary theory, which refers the construction of 
our globe, and all that it contains, to the combination of four 
material elements— air, earth, fire, and water ; with the assist- 
ance of a fifth, an immaterial and vivifying principle. 

Nor must I omit to mention the great atomic system, taught 
by old :RIoschus, before the siege of Troy ; revived by Democ- 
ritus, of laughing memory ; improved by Epicurus, that king 
of good fellows, and modernized by the fanciful Descartes. 

But I decline inquiring, whether the atoms, of which the 
earth is said to be composed, are eternal or recent ; whether 
they are animate or inanimate; whether, agreeably to the 
opinion of the atheists, they were fortuitously aggregated, or, 
as the theists maintain, were arranged by a supreme intelli- 
gence. I Whether, in fact, the earth be an insensate clod, or 
whether it be animated by a soul ; § which opinion was strenu- 
ously maintained by a host of philosophers, at the head of 
whom stands the great Plato, that temperate sage, who threw 
the cold water of philosophy on the form of sexual intercourse, 
and inculcated the doctrine of Platonic love— an exquisitely 
refined intercourse, but much better adapted to the ideal inha- 
bitants of his imaginary island of Atlantis than to the sturdy 
race, composed of rebellions flesh and blood, which populates 
the little matter-of-fact island we inhabit. 

Beside these systems, we have, moreover, the poetical the- 
ogony of old Hesiod, who generated the whole universe in the 
regular mode of procreation; and the plausible opinion of 
others, that the earth was hatched from the great egg of night, 
which floated in chaos, and was cracked by the horns of the 



* Aristot. Metaph. lib. i. c. 5. Idem, de Coelo, 1. iii. c. 1. Rousseau Mem. sur 
Musique ancien, p. 39. Plutarch de Plac. Philos. lib. 1. cap. 3. 

t Tim. Locr. ap. Plato, t. iii. p. 90r. 

X Aristot. Nat. Auscult. 1. ii. cap. 6. Aristoph. Metaph. lib. 1. cap. 3. Cic. de Nat. 
Deor. lib. i. cap. 10. Justin Mart. orat. ad gent. p. 20. 

§Mosheim in Ci'dw. lib. i. cap. 4, Tim. de anim. mund ap. Plat, lib iii. Mem 
de I'Acad. des Belles-Lettr. t. xxxii. p. 19, et al. 



30 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

celestial bull. To illustrate this last doctrine, Burnet, in his 
theory of the earth,* has favoured us with an accurate drawing 
and description, both of the form and texture of this mundane 
egg ; which is found to bear a marvellous resemblance to that 
of a goose. Such of my readers as take a proper interest in 
the origin of this our planet, will be pleased to learn, that the 
most profound sages of antiquity, among the Egyptians, Chal- 
deans, Persians, Greeks, and Latins, have alternately assisted 
at the hatching of this strange bird, and that their cacklings 
have been caught, and continued in different tones and in- 
flections, from pliilosopher to philosopher, unto the present 
day. 

But while briefly noticing long-celebrated systems of ancient 
sages, let me not pass over with neglect those of other philoso- 
phers ; which, though less universal and renowned, have equal 
claims to attention, and equal chance for correctness. Thus it 
is recorded by the Brahmins, in the pages of their inspired 
Shastah, that the angel Bistnoo, transforming himself into a 
great boar, plunged into the watery abyss, and brought up the 
earth on his tusks. Then issued from him a mighty tortoise, 
and a mighty snake ; and Bistnoo placed the snake erect upon 
the back of the tortoise, and he placed the earth upon the head 
of the snake, t . 

The negro philosophers of Congo affirm that the world was 
made by the hands of angels, excepting their own country, 
which the Supreme Being constructed himself, that it might be 
supremely excellent. And he took great pains with the inha- 
bitants, and made them very black, and beautiful ; and when 
he had finished the first man, he was well pleased with him, 
and smoothed him over the face ; and hence his nose, and the 
nose of all his descendants, became flat. 

The Mohawk philosophers tell us, that a pregnant woman 
fell down from heaven, and that a tortoise took her up on its 
back, because every jilace was covered with water ; and that 
the w^oman, sitting upon the tortoise, paddled with her hands 
in the water, and raked up the earth, whence it finally hap- 
pened that the earth became higher than the water. I 

But I forbear to quote a number more of these ancient and 
outlandish philosophers, whose deplorable ignorance, in spite 
of all their erudition, compelled them to write in languages 



* Book i, ch. 3. t Holwell, Gent. Philosophy. 

t Johannes Megapolensis, Jun. Account of M&quaas or Mohawk Indians. 1644. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORE. 31 

which but few of my readers can understand ; and I shall pro- 
ceed briefly to notice a few more intelligible and fashionable 
theories of their modern successors. 

And, first, I shall mention the great Buffon, who conjectures 
that this globe was originally a globe of liquid fire, scifitillated 
from the body of the sun, by the percussion of a comet, as a 
spark is generated by the collision of flint and steel. That at 
first it was surrounded by gross vapours, which, coohng and 
condensing in process of time, constituted, according to their 
densities, earth, water, and air; which gradually arranged 
themselves, according to their respective gravities, round the 
burning or vitrified mass that formed their centre. 

Hutton, on the contrarj^, supposes that the waters at first 
were universally paramount ; and he terrifies himself with the 
idea that the earth must be eventually washed away by the 
force of rain, rivers, and mountain torrents, until it is con- 
founded Avith the ocean, or, in other words, absolutely dissolves 
into itself. Sublime idea! far surpassing that of the tender- 
hearted damsel of antiquity, who wept herself into a fountain ; 
or the good dame of Narbonne in France, who, for a volubility 
of tongue unusual in her sex, was doomed to peel five hundred 
thousand and thirty-nine ropes of onions, and actually run out 
at her eyes before half the hideous task was accomplished. 

Whiston, the same ingenious philosopher who rivalled Ditton 
in his researches after the longitude, (for which the mischief- 
loving Swift discharged on their heads a most savoury stanza,) 
has distinguished himself by a very admirable theory respect- 
ing the earth. He conjectures that it was originally a chaotio 
comet, which being selected for the abode of man, was removed 
from its eccentric orbit, and whirled round the sun in its pre- 
sent regular motion ; by which change of direction, order suc- 
ceeded to confusion in the arrangement of its component parts. 
The philosopher adds, that the deluge was produced by an un- 
courteous salute from the watery tail of another comet ; doubt- 
less through sheer envy of its improved condition: thus 
furnishing a melancholy proof that jealousy may prevail, even 
among the heavenly bodies, and discord interrupt that celestial 
harmony of the spheres so melodiously sung by the poets. 

But I pass over a variety of excellent theories, among which 
are those of Burnet, and Woodward, and Whitehurst ; regret- 
ting extremely that my time will not suffer me to give them 
the notice they deserve — and shall conclude with that of the 
renowned Dr. Darwin. This learned Theban, who is as much 



32 A HISTORT OF NEW-TORK. 

distinguished for rhyme as reason, and for good-natured cre- 
duhty as serious research, and who has recommended him- 
self wonderfully to the good graces of tho ladies, by letting 
them into all the gallantries, amours, intrigues, and other 
topics of scandal of the court of Flora, has fallen upon a theory- 
worthy of his combustible imagination. According to his 
opinion, the huge mass of chaos took a sudden occasion to ex- 
plode, hke a barrel of gunpowder, and in that act exploded the 
sun — which in its flight, by a similar convulsion, exploded tho 
earth — which in like guise exploded the moon — and thus by a 
concatenation of explosions, the whole solar system was pro- 
duced, and set most systematically in motion ! * 

By the great variety of theories here alluded to, every one 
of which, if thoroughly examined, will be found surprisingly 
consistent in all its parts, my unlearned readers will perhaps 
be led to conclude, that the creation of a world is not so diffi- 
cult a task as they at first imagined. I have shown at least a 
score of ingenious methods in which a world coLild be con- 
structed ; and I have no doubt that had any of the philoso' 
phers above quoted the use of a good manageable comet, and 
the philosophical warehouse chaos at his command, he would 
engage to manufacture a planet as good, or, if you would take 
his word for it, better than this we inhabit. 

And here I cannot help noticing the kindness of Providence, 
in creating comets for the great rehef of bewildered philoso- 
phers. By their assistance more sudden evolutions and transi- 
tions are effected in the system of nature, than are wrought in 
a pantoixdmic exhibition, by the wonder-working sword of 
Harlequin. Should one of our modern sages, in his theoretical 
flights among the stars, ever find himself lost in the clouds, 
and in danger of tumbling into the abyss of nonsense and ab- 
surdity, he has Tbut to seize a comet by the beard, mount 
astride of its tail, and away he gallops in triumph, like an en- 
chanter on his hippogriff , or a Connecticut witch on her broom- 
stick, " to sweep the cobwebs out of the sky." 

There is an old and vulgar saying about a '' beggar on horse- 
back," which I would not for the world have applied to these 
reverend philosophers ; but I must confess that some of them, 
when they are mounted on one of those fiery steeds, are as 
wild in their curvetings as was Phaeton of yore, when he as- 
pired to manage the chariot of Phoebus. One drives his comet 
- — • _ _ — A 

* Darw. Bot. Garden, Part. I. Cant. i. 1. 105. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. , 33 

at full speed against the sun, and knocks the world out of him 
with the mighty concussion ; another, more moderate, makes 
his comet a mere beast of burden, carrying the Si.n a regular 
supply of food and fagots ; a third, of more combustible dispo- 
sition, threatens to throw his comet, like a bombshell, into the 
world and blow it up like a powder-magazine ; while a fourth, 
with no great delicacy to this planet and its inhabitants, insin- 
uates that some day or other his comet — my modest pen blushes 
while I write it — shall absolutely turn tail upon our world and 
deluge it with water! — Surely, as I have already observed, 
comets were intended by Providence for the benefit of philoso- 
phers, to assist them in manufacturing theories. 

And now, having adduced several of the most prominent 
theories that occur to my recollection, I leave my judicious 
readers at full liberty to choose among them. They are all 
serious speculations of learned men — all differ essentially from 
each other — and all have the same title to belief. It has ever 
been the task of one race of philosophers to demohsh the works 
of their predecessors, and elevate more splendid fantasies in 
their stead, which in their turn are demohshed and replaced 
by the air-castles of a succeeding generation. Thus it would 
seem that knowledge and genius, of 'which we make such great 
parade, consist but in detecting the errors and absurdities of 
those who have gone before, and devising new errors and ab- 
surdities, to be detected by those who are to come after us. 
Theories are the mighty soap-bubbles with which the grown- 
up children of science amuse themselves — >while the honest 
vulgar stand gazing in stupid admiration, and dignify these 
learned vagaries with the name of wisdom !— Surely, Socrates 
was right in his opinion, that philosophers are but a soberer 
sort of madmen, busying themselves in things totally incom- 
prehensible, or which, if they could be comprehended, would 
be found not worth the trouble of discovery. 

For my own part, until the learned have come to an agree- 
ment among themselves, I shall content myself with the ac- 
count handed down to us by Moses ; in which I do but follow 
the example of our ingenious neighbours of Connecticut ; who 
at their first settlement proclaimed that the colony should be 
governed by the laws of God — until they had time to make 
better. 

One thiQg, however, appears certain— from the unanimous 
authority of the before-quoted philosophers, supported by the 
evidence of onr own senses, (which, though very apt to deceive 



34 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

US, may be cautiously admitted as additional testimony,) it 
appears, I say, and I make the assertion deliberately, without 
fear of contradiction, that this globe really was created, and 
that it is composed of land and water. It farther appears that 
it is curiously divided and parcelled out into continents and 
islands, among which I boldly declare the renowned Island of 
New- York will be found by any one who seeks for it in its 
proper place. 



CHAPTER III. 

HOW THAT FAMOUS NAVIGATOR, NOAH, WAS SHAMEFULLY NICK- 
NAMED; AND HOW HE COMMITTED AN UNPARDONABLE OVER- 
SIGHT IN NOT HAVING FOUR SONS. WITH THE GREAT TROUBLE 
OF PHILOSOPHERS CAUSED THEREBY, AND THE DISCOVERY OP 
AMERICA. 

Noah, who is the first sea-faring man we read of, begat three 
sons, Shem, Ham, and Japhet. Authors, it is time, are not 
wanting who affirm that the patriarch had a number of other 
children. Thus Berosus makes him father of the gigantic Ti- 
tans ; Methodius gives him a son called Jonithus, or Jonicus, 
and others have mentioned a son named Thuiscon, from whom 
descended the Teutons or Teutonic, or, in other words, the 
Dutch nation. 

I regret exceedingly that the nature of my plan wiU not per- 
mit me to gratify the laudable curiosity of my readers, by in- 
vestigating minutely the history of the great Noah. Indeed, 
such an undertaking would be attended with more trouble 
than many people would imagine ; for the good old patriarch 
seems to have been a great traveller in his day, and to have 
passed under a different name in every country that he visited. 
The Chaldeans, for instance, give us his history, merely alter- 
ing his name into Xisuthrus— a trivial alteration, which, to a 
historian skilled in etymologies, will appear wholly unimpor- 
tant. It appears, likewise, that he had exchanged his tar- 
pawling and quadrant among the Chaldeans for the gorgeous 
insignia of royalty, and appears as a monarch in their annals. 
The Egyptians celebrate him under the name of Osiris ; the In- 
dians, as Menu ; the Greek and Roman writers confound him 
with Ogyges, and the Theban with Deucalion and Saturn. But 
the Chinese, who deservedly rank among the most extensive 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK 35 

and authentic historians, inasmuch as they have known the 
world much longer than any one else, declare that Noah was 
no other than Fohi ; and what gives this assertion some air of 
credibihty is, that it is a fact, admitted by the most enlight- 
ened- literati, that Noah travelled into China at the time of the 
building of the tower of Babel, (probably to improve himself 
in the study of languages,) and the learned Dr. Shuckford 
gives us the additional information, that the ark rested on a 
mountain on the frontiers of China. 

From this mass of rational conjectures and sage hypotheses, 
many satisfactory deductions might be drawn ; but I shall con- 
tent myself with the simple fact stated in the Bible, viz., that 
Noah begat three sons, Shem, Ham, and Japhet. It is astonish- 
ing on what remote and obscure contingencies the great affairs 
of this world depend, and how events the most distant, and to 
the cormnon observer unconnected, are inevitably consequent 
the one to the other. It remains for the philosopher to discover 
these mysterious affinities, and it is the proudest triumph of 
his skill to detect and drag forth some latent chain of causa- 
tion, which at first sight appears a paradox to the inex- 
perienced observer. Thus many of my readers will doubtless 
wonder what connexion the family of Noah can possibly have 
with this history — and many will stare when informed that 
the whole history of this quarter of the world has taken its 
character and course from the simple circiunstance of the 
patriarch's hairing but three sons — ^but to explain : 

Noah, we are told by sundry very credible historians, becom- 
ing sole surviving heir and proprietor of the earth in fee 
simple, after the deluge, like a good father, portioned out his 
estate among his children. To Shem he gave Asia ; to Ham, 
Africa ; and to Japhet, Europe. Now it is a thousand times to 
be lamented that he had but three sons, for had there been a 
fourth, he would doubtless have inherited America ; which, of 
course, would have been dragged forth from its obscurity on 
ti-.e occasion; and thus many a hard-working historian and 
philosopher would have been spared a prodigious mass of 
weary conjecture respecting the first discovery and population 
of this country. Noah, however, having provided for his three 
sons, looked in all probability upon our country as mere wild 
unsettled land, and said nothing about it ; and to this unpar- 
donable taciturnity of the patriarch, may we ascribe the mis- 
fortune that America did not come into the world as early as 
^he other quarters of the globe. 



36 A HISTORY OF NEW-YOKK. 

It is true, some writers have vindicated him from this mis- 
conduct towards posterity, and asserted that he really did 
discover America. Thus it was the opinion of Mart: Lescarbot, 
a French writer, possessed of that ponderosity of thought and 
profoundness of reflection so peculiar to his nation, that the 
immediate descendants of Noah peopled this quarter of the 
globe, and that the old patriarch himself, who still retained a 
passion for the sea-faring life, superintended the transmigra- 
tion. The pious and enlightened father, Charlevoix, a French 
Jesuit, remarkable for his aversion to the marvellous, com- 
mon to all great travellers, is conclusively of the same opinion ; 
nay, he goes still farther, and decides upon the manner in 
which the discovery was effected, which was by sea, and under 
the immediate direction of the great Noah. "I have already 
observed," exclaims the good father, in a tone of becoming 
indignation, "that it is an arbitrary supposition that the 
grand-children of Noah were not able to penetrate into the new 
world, or that they never thought of it. In effect, I can see no 
reason that can justify such a notion. Who can seriously 
beheve that Noah and his immediate descendants knew less 
than we do, and that the builder and pilot of the greatest ship 
that ever was, a ship which was formed to traverse an 
unbounded ocean, and had so many shoals and quicksands to 
guard against, should be ignorant of, or should not have com- 
municated to liis descendants, the art of sailing on the ocean?" 
Therefore, they did sail on the ocean— therefore, they sailed to 
America— therefore, America was discovered by Noah. 

Now all this exquisite chain of reasoning, which is so strik- 
ingly characteristic of the good father, being addressed to the 
faith, rather than the understanding, is flatly opposed by Hans 
de Laert, who declares it a real and^most ridiculous paradox, to 
suppose that Noah ever entertained' the thought of discovering 
America ; and as Hans is a Dutch writer, I am inclined to believe 
he must have been much better acquainted with the worthy 
crew of the ark than his competitors, and of course possessed 
of more accurate sources of information. It is astonishing 
how intimate historians do daily become with the patriarchs 
and other great men of antiquity. As intimacy unprovcs 
with time, and as the learned- are particularly inquisitive and 
familiar in their acquaintance with the ancients, I should not 
be surprised if some future writers should gravely give us a 
picture of men and manners as they existed before the flood, 
far more copious and accm^ate than the Bible ; and that, in the 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 37 

course of another century, the log-book of the good Noah 
should be as current among historians, as the voyages of 
Captain Cook, or the renowned history of Eobinson Crusoe. 

I shall not occupy my tune by discussing the huge mass 
of additional suppositions, conjectures, and probabihties, re- 
specting the first discovery of this country, with which un- 
happy historians overload themselves, in their endeavours to 
satisfy the doubts of an incredulous world. It is painful to see 
these laborious wights panting, and toiling, and sweating 
under an enormous burden, at the very outset of their works, 
which, on being opened, turns out to be nothing but a mighty 
bundle of straw. As, however, by unwearied assiduity, they 
seem to have established the fact, to the satisfaction of all the 
world, that this country has been discovered, I shall avail 
myself of their useful labours to be extremely brief upon this 
point. 

I shaU not, therefore, stop to inquire, whether America was 
first discovered by a wandering vessel of that celebrated 
Phoenician fieet, which, according to Herodotus, circumnavi- 
gated Africa ; or by that Carthaginian expedition, which Pliny, 
the naturalist, informs us, discovered the Canary Islands ; or 
whether it was settled by a temporary colony from Tyre, as 
hinted by Aristotle and Seneca. I shall neither inquire 
whether it was first discovered by the Chinese, as Vossius with 
great shrewdness advances ; nor by the Norwegians in 1003, 
under Biorn ; nor by Behem, the German navigator, as Mr. 
Otto has endeavoured to prove to the savans of the learned 
city of Philadelphia. 

Nor shall I investigate the more modern claims of the 
Welsh, founded on the voyage of Prince Madoc in the eleventh 
century, w^ho having never returned, it has since been wisely 
concluded that he must have gone to America, and that for a 
plain reason — if he did not go there, where else could he have 
gone?— a question which most SocraticaUy shuts out all farther 
dispute. 

Laying aside, therefore, all the conjectures above mentioned, 
with a multitude of others, equally satisfactory, I shall take 
for granted the vulgar opinion, that America was discovered 
on the 12th of October, 1492, by Christovallo Colon, a Genoese, 
who has been clumsily nicknamed Columbus, but for what 
reason I cannot discern. Of the voyages and adventures of 
this Colon, I shall say nothing, seeing that they are already 
sufficiently known; nor shaU I undertake to prove that this 



38 A mSTORT OF NEW-TOEK. 

country should have been called Colonia, after his name, that 
being notoriously seh-evident. 

Having thus happily got my readers on this side of the 
/:^tlantic, 1 picture them to myself, all impatience to enter upon 
r,he enjoyment ot the land of promise, and in full expectation 
ohat I will immediately deliver it into their possession. But il 
[ do, may I ever forfeit the reputation of a regular-bred his- 
torian ! No — no— most curious and thrice learned readers, (for 
thrice learned ye are, if ye have read all that has gone before, 
and nine times learned shall ye be, it ye read that which comes 
after,) we have yet a world of work before us. Think you the 
first discoverers of this fair quarter of tne globe had nothing 
to do but go on shore and find a country ready laid out and 
cultivated like a garden, wherein they might revel at their 
ease? No such thing — they had forests to cut down, under- 
wood to grub up, marshes to drain, and savages to exterminate. 

In like manner, I have sundry doubts to clear away, ques- 
tions to resolve, and paradoxes to explain, before 1 permit you 
to range at random; but these difficulties once overcome, we 
shall be enabled to jog on right merrily through the rest of our 
history. Thus my work shall, in a manner, echo the nature 
of the subject, in the same manner as the sound of poetry has 
been found by certain shrewd critics to echo the sense — this 
being an improvement in history, which I claun the merit of 
having invented 



CHAPTER IV. 

SHOWING THE GREAT DIFFICULTY PHILOSOPHERS HAVE HAD IN" 
PEOPLING AMERICA— AND HOW THE ABORIGINES CAME TO BE 
BEGOTTEN BY ACCIDENT — TO THE GREAT RELIEF AND SATIS- 
FACTION OF THE AUTHOR. 

The next inquiry at which we arrive in the regular course of 
our history, is to ascertain, if possible, how this country was 
originally peopled— a point fruitful of incredible embarrass- 
ment ; for unless we prove that the aborigines did absolutely 
come from somewhere, it will be immediately asserted in this 
age of scepticism that they did not come at all ; and if they 
did not come at all, then was this country never populated — a 
conclusion perfectly agreeable to the rules of logic, but wholly 
irreconcilable to every feeling of humanity, inasmuch as it 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 39 

must syllogistically prove fatrJ to the innumerable aborigines 
of tliis populous region. 

To avert so dire a sophism, and to rescue from logical anni- 
hilation so many millions of fellow-creatures, how many wings 
of geese have been plundered ! what oceans of ink have been 
benevolently drained! and how many capacious heads ot 
learned historians have been addled, and for ever confounded ! 
I pause with reverential awe, when I contemplate the ponder- 
ous tomes, in different languages, with which they have 
endeavored to solve this question, so important to the happi- 
ness of society, but so involved in clouds of impenetrable 
obscurity. Historian after historian has engaged in the end- 
less circle of hypothetical argument, and after leading us a 
weary chase through octavos, quartos, and fohos, has let us 
out at the end of his work just as wise as we were at the 
beginning. It was doubtless some philosophical wild-goose 
chase of the kind that made the old poet Macrobius rail in such 
a passion at curiosity, which he anathematizes most heartily, 
as "an irksome, agonizing care, a superstitious industry about 
unprofitable things, an itching humour to see what is not to 
be seen, and to be doing what signifies nothing when it is 
done." But to proceed : 

Of the claims of the children of Noah to the original popula- 
tion of this country, I shall say nothing, as they have already 
been touched upon in my last chapter. The claimants next in 
celebrity, are the descendants of Abraham. Thus Christoval 
Colon (vulgarly called Columbus) when he first discovered the 
gold mines of Hispaniola, immediately concluded, with a 
shrewdness that would have done honour to a philosopher, 
that he had found the ancient Ophir, from whence Solomon 
procured the gold for embellishing the temple at Jerusalem; 
nay, Colon even imagined that he saw the remains of furnaces 
of veritable Hebraic construction, employed in refining the 
precious ore. 

So golden a conjecture, tinctured with such fascinating 
extravagance, was too tempting not to be immediately snapped 
at by the gudgeons of learning; and accordingly, there were 
divers profound writers, ready to swear to its correctness, and 
to bring in their usual load of authorities, and wise surmises, 
wherewithal to prop it up. Vetablus and Robertus Stephens 
declared nothing could be more clear — Arius Montanus, with- 
out the least hesitation, asserts that Mexico was the true 
Ophir, and the Jews the early settlers of the country. While 



40 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

Possevin, Becan, and several other sagacious writers, lug in a 
supposed prophecy of the fourth book of Esdras, which being 
inserted in the mighty hypothesis, like the keystone of an 
arch, gives it, in their opinion, perpetual durability. 

Scarce, however, have they completed their goodly super- 
structure, than in trudges a phalanx of opposite authors, with 
Hans de Laert, the great Dutchman, at their head^ and at one 
blow tumbles the whole fabric about their ears. Hans, in 
fact, contradicts outright all the Israelitish claims to the first 
settlement of this country, attributing all those equivocal 
symptoms, and traces of Christianity and Judaism, which 
have been said to be found in divers provinces of the new 
world, to the Devil, who has always affected to counterfeit the 
worship of the true deity. " A remark," says the knowing old 
Padre d'Acosta, " made by all good authors who have spoken 
of the religion of nations newly discovered, and founded 
besides on the authority of t\LQ fathers of the church.'''' 

Some writers again, among whom it is with great regret I 
am compelled to mention Lopez de Gomara, and Juan de Leri, 
insinuate that the Canaanites, being driven from the land of 
promise by the Jews, were seized with such a panic that they 
fled without looking behind them, until, stopping to take 
breath, they found themselves safe in America. As they 
brought neither their national language, manners, nor features 
with them, it is supposed they left them behind in the hurry of 
their flight — I cannot give my faith to this opinion. 

I pass over the supposition of the learned Grotius. who being 
both an ambassador and a Dutchman to boot, is entitled to 
great respect ; that North America was peopled by a strolling 
company of Norwegians, and that Peru was founded by a 
colony from Cliina — Manco or Mango Capac, the first Incas, 
being himself a Chinese. Nor shall I more than barely men- 
tion, that Father Kircher ascribes the settlement of America 
to the Egyptians, Eudbeck to the Scandinavians, Charron to 
the Gauls, Juffredus Pedri to a skating party from Friesland, 
JVlilius to the Celtse, Marinocus the Sicilian to the Romans, Le 
Compte to the Phoenicians, Postel to the Moors, Martyn 
d'Angleria to the Abyssinians, together with the sage surmise 
of De Laert, that England, Ireland, and the Orcades may con- 
tend for that honour. 

Nor will I bestow any more attention or credit to the idea 
that America is the fairy region of Zipangri, described by that 
dreaming traveller, Marco Polo, the Venetian ; or that it com- 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 41 

prises the visionary island of Atlantis, described by Plato. 
Neither will I stop to investigate the heathenish as.sertion of 
Paracelsus, that each hemisphere of the globe was originally 
furnished with an Adam and Eve— or the more flattering 
opinion of Dr. Eomayne, supported by many nameless authori- 
ties, that Adam was of the Indian race — or the starthng coiv 
jecture of Buffon, Helvetius, and Darwin, so highly honour- 
able to mankind, that the whole human species is accidentally 
descended from a remarkable family of monkeys ! 

This last conjecture, I must own, came upon me very sud- 
denly and very ungraciously. I have often beheld the clowu 
in a pantomime, while gazing in stupid wonder at the ex- 
travagant gambols of a harlequin, all at once electrified by a 
sudden stroke of the wooden sword across his shoulders. Lit- 
tle did I think at such times, that it would ever fall to my lot 
to be treated with equal discourtesy; and that while I was 
quietly beholding these grave philosophers, emulating the 
eccentric transformations of the hero of pantomime, they 
would on a sudden tarn upon me and my readers, and with 
one hypothetical flourish metamorphose us into beasts ! I de- 
termined from that moment not to burn my fingers with any 
more of their theories, but content myself with detailing the 
different methods by which they transported the descendants 
of these ancient and respectable monkeys to this great field of 
theoretical warfare. 

This was done either by migrations by land or transmigra- 
tions by water. Thus, Padre Joseph D'Acosta enumerates 
three passages by land— first by the north of Europe, secondly 
by the north of Asia, and thirdly by regions southward of the 
straits of Magellan. The learned Grotius marches his Norwe- 
gians by a pleasant route across frozen rivers and arms of the 
sea, through Iceland, Greenland, Estotiland, and Naremberga: 
and various writers, among whom are Angleria, De Hornn, 
and Buffon, anxious for the accommodation of these travellers, 
have fastened the two continents together by a strong chain 
of deductions— by which means they could pass over dry-shod. 
But should even this fail, Pinkerton, that industrious old gen- 
tleman who compiles books and manufactures geographies, 
has constructed a natural bridge of ice, from continent to con- 
tinent, at the distance of four or five miles from Behring's 
straits— for which he is entitled to the grateful thanks of all 
the wandering aborigines who ever did or ever will pass 
over it. 



42 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

It is an evil much to be lamented, that none of the worthy 
ivriters above quoted could ever commence his work, without 
immediately declaring hostilities against every writer who had 
treated of the same subject. In this particular, authors may 
be compared to a certain sagacious bird, which, in building its 
nest, is sure to pull to pieces the nests of all the birds in the 
neighbourhood. This unhappy propensity tends grievously to 
impede the progress of sound knowledge. Theories are at best 
but brittle productions, and when once coromitted to the 
stream, they should take care that, like the notable pots which 
were feUow-voyagers, they do not crack each other. 

My chief surprise is, that among the many writers I have 
noticed, no one has attempted to prove that this country was 
peopled from the moon — or that the first inhabitants floated- 
hither on islands of ice, as white bears cruise about the north- 
ern oceans — or that they were conveyed hither by balloons, as 
modern aeronauts pass from Dover to Calais— or by witch- 
craft, as Simon Magus posted among the stars— or after the 
manner of the renowned Scythian Abaris, who, like the New- 
England witches on fuU-blooded broomsticks, made most 
unheard-of journeys on the back of a golden arrow, given him 
by the Hyperborean Apollo. 

But there is stiU one mode left by which this country could 
have been peopled, which I have reserved for the last, because 
I consider it worth all the rest : it is — by accident ! Speaking 
of the islands of Solomon, New-Guinea, and New-Holland, the 
profound father Charlevoix observes, "in fine, all these coun- 
tries are peopled, and it is possible some have been so by acci- 
dent. Now if it could have happened in that manner, why 
might it not have been at the same time, and by the same 
means, with the other part of the globe?" This ingenious mode 
of deducing certain conclusions from possible premises, is an 
improvement in syllogistic skiU, and proves the good father 
superior even to Archimedes, for he can turn the world with- 
out anything to rest his lever upon. It is only surpassed by 
the dexterity with which the sturdy old Jesuit, in another 
place, cuts the gordon knot — "Nothing," says he, "is more 
easy. The inhabitants of both hemispheres are certainly the 
descendants of the same father. The common father of man- 
kind received an express order from Heaven to people the 
world, and accordingly it has been peopled. To bring this 
about, it was necessary to overcome all difficulties in the way, 
and they have also been overcome I " Pious logician ! How does 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 43 

he put all tlie herd of laborious theorists to the blush, by eX" 
plaining, in five words, what it has cost them volumes to 
prove they knew nothing about. 

From all the authorities here quoted, and a variety of others 
which I have consulted, but which are omitted through fear 
of fatiguing the unlearned reader— I can only draw the foUow- 
iDg conclusions, which luckily, however, are suflacient for my 
purpose — First, that this part of the world has actually been 
veoplcd, (Q. E. D.,) to support which we have living proofs 
in the numerous tribes of Indians that inhabit it. Secondly, 
that it has been peopled in five hundred different ways, as 
proved by a cloud of authors, who, from the positiveness 
of their assertions, seem to have been eye-witnesses to the 
fact. Thirdly, that the people oi tnis country had a variety 
of fathers, which, as it may not be thought much to their 
credit by the common run of readers, the less we say on the 
subject the better. The question, therefore, I trust, is for 
ever at rest. 



CHAPTER V. 

IN WHICH THE AUTHOR PUTS A MIGHTY QUESTION TO THK ROUlf 
BY THE ASSISTANCE OF THE MAN IN THE MOON— WHICH NOT 
ONLY DELIVERS THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE FROM GREAT EMBAR- 
RASSMENT, BUT LIKEWISE CONCLUDES THIS INTRODUCTORY 
BOOK. 

The writer of a history may, in some respects, be likened 
unto an advt^nturous knight, who/having undertaken a peril- 
ous enterprise, by way of establishing his fame, feels bound, in 
honour and chivalry, to turn back for no difiiculty nor hard- 
ship, and never to shrink or quail, whatever enemy he may 
encounter. Under this impression, I resolutely draw my pen, 
and fall to, with might and main, at those doughty questions 
and subtle paradoxes, which, like fiery dragons and bloody 
giants, beset the entrance to my history, and would fain re- 
pulse me from the very threshold. And at this moment a 
gigantic question has started up, which I must needs take by 
the beard and utterly subdue, before I can advance another 
step in my historic undertaking; but I trust this will be the 
last adversary I shall have to contend with, and that in the 



44 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

next book I shall be enabled to conduct my readers in triumph 
into the body of my work. 

The question which has thus suddenly arisen, is, what right 
had the first discoverers of America to land and take posses- 
sion of a country, without first gaining the consent of its 
inhabitants, or yielding them an adequate compensation for 
their territory ? — a question which has withstood many fierce 
assaults, and has given much distress of mind to multitudes of 
kind-hearted folk. And, indeed, until it be totally vanquished, 
and put to rest, the worthy people of America can by no means 
enjoy the soil they inhabit, with clear right and title, and quiet, 
unsullied consciences. 

The first source of right by which property is acquired in a 
country, is discovery. For as all mankind have an equal 
right to any thing which has never before been appropriated, 
so any nation that discovers an uninhabited country, and takes 
possession thereof, is considered as enjoying full property, and 
absolute, unquestionable empire therein.* 

This proposition being admitted, it follows clearly that the 
Europeans who first visited America were the real discoverers 
of the same ; nothing being necessary to the establishment of 
this fact, but simply to prove that it was totally uninhabited 
by man. This would, at first, appear to be a point of. some 
difficulty, for it is well known that this quarter of the world 
abounded with certain animals that walked erecf on two feet, 
had something of the human countenance, uttered certain un- 
intelligble sounds very much like language; in short, had a 
marvellous resemblance to human beings. But the zea,lous 
and enlightened fathers, who accompanied the discoverers, for 
the purpose of promoting the kingdom of heaven, by establish- 
ing fat monasteries and bishoprics on earth, soon cleared up 
this point, greatly to the satisfaction of his holiness the Pope, 
and of all Christian voyagers and discoverers. 

They plainly proved, and as there were no Indian writers 
arose on the other side, the fact was considered as fully 
admitted and established, that the two-legged race of animals 
before mentioned were mere cannibals, detestable monsters, 
and many of them giants— which last description of vagrants 
have, since the times of Gog, Magog, and Goliath, been con- 
sidered as outlaws, and have received no quarter in either 
liistory, chivalry, or song. Indeed, even the philosophic Bacon 

* Grotius. Puffendorf, b. v. c. 4. Vattel, b. i. a 18, &c. 



A BISTORT OF NEW-YORK. 45 

declared the Americans to be people proscribed by the laws 
of nature, inasmuch as they had a barbarous custom of sacri- 
ficing men, and feeding upon man's flesh. 

Nor are these all the proofs of their utter barbarism ; among 
many other writers of discernment, Ulloa tells us, "their im- 
becility is so visible, that one.can hardly form an idea of them 
different from what one has of the brutes. Nothing disturbs 
the tranquillity of their souls, equally insensible to disasters 
and to prosperity. Though half naked, they are as contented 
as a monarch in his most splejudid array. Fear makes no im- 
pression on them, and respect as little." All this is further- 
Qiore supported by the authority of M. Bouguer: "It is not 
easy," says he, "to describe the degree of their indifference 
for weeilth and all its advantages. One does not well know 
what motives to propose to them, when one would persuade 
them to any service-. It is vain to offer them money; they 
answer that they are not hungry." And Vanegas confirms the 
whole, assuring us that "ambition they have none, and are 
more desirous of being thought strong and valiant. The 
objects of ambition with us— honour, fame, reputation, riches, 
posts, and distinctions — are unknown among them. So that 
this powerful spring of action, the cause of so much seeming 
good and real evil in the world, has no power over them. In a 
word, these unhappy mortals may be compared to children, in 
whom the development of reason is not completed." 

Now aU these peculiarities, although in the unenhghtened 
states of Greece they would have entitled their possessors to 
immortal honour, as having reduced to practice those rigid 
and abstemious maxims, the mere talking about which acquired 
certain old Greeks the reputation of sages and philosophers ; — 
yet, were they clearly proved in the present instance to betoken 
a most abject and brutified nature, totally beneath the human 
character. But the benevolent fathers, who had undertaken 
to turn these unhappy savages into dumb beasts, by dint of 
argTunent, advanced still stronger proofs ; for as certain divines 
of the sixteenth century, and among the rest, LuUus, aflSrm — 
the Americans go naked, and have no beards! — "They have 
nothing," says LuUus, "of the reasonable animal, except the 
mask."— And even that mask was allowed to avail them but 
little, for it was soon found that they were of a hideous copper 
complexion — and being of a copper complexion, it was all the 
same as if they were negroes — and negroes are black, "and 
black," said the pious fathers, devoutly crossing themselves^ 



46 -d UISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

"is the colour of the Devil !" Therefore, so far from being able 
to own property, they had no right even to personal freedom 
—for Hberty is too radiant a deity to inhabit such gloomy 
temples. All which circumstances plainly convinced the 
righteous followers of Cortes and Pizarro, that these mis- 
creants had no title to the soil that they infested— that they 
were a perverse, illiterate, dumb, beardless, black-seed — mere 
Wild beasts of the forests, and, like them, should either be 
subdued or exterminated. 

From the foregoing arguments, therefore, and a variety of 
others equally conclusive, which I forbear to enumerate, it is 
clearly evident that this fair quarter of the globe, when first 
visited by Europeans, was a howhng wilderness, inhabited by 
nothing but wild beasts; and that the transatlantic visitors 
acquired an incontrovertible property therein, by the right of 
discovery. 

This right being fully established, we now come to the next, 
which is the right acquired by cultivation. ' ' The cultivation 
of the soil," we are told, "is an obligation imposed by nature 
on mankind. The whole world is appointed for the nourish- 
ment of its inhabitants ; but it would be incapable of doing it, 
was it uncultivated. Every nation is then obliged by the law 
of nature to cultivate the ground that has fallen to its share. 
Those people, like the ancient Germans and modern Tartars, 
who, having fertile countries, disdain to cultivate the earth, 
and choose to live by rapine, are wanting to themselves, and 
deserve to he exterminated as savage and pernicious beasts. " * 

Now it is notorious, that the savages knew nothing of agri- 
culture, when first discovered by the Europeans, but lived a 
most vagabond, disorderly, unrighteous life, — rambling from 
place to place, and prodigally rioting upon the spontaneous 
luxuries of nature, without tasking her generosity to yield 
them any thing more ; whereas it has been most unquestion- 
ably shown, that Heaven intended the earth should be 
ploughed and sown, and manured, and laid out into cities, 
and towns, and farms, and country-seats, and pleasure 
grounds, and public gardens, all which the Indians knew 
notliing about — therefore, they did not improve the talents 
Providence had bestowed on them —therefore, they were care- 
less stewards — therefore, they had no right to the soil— there- 
fore, they deserved to be exterminated. 

* Vattel, b. i. ch. 17. 



A HISrORT OF NEW'TORK. 47 

It is true, the savages might plead that they drew all the 
benefits from^the land which their simple wants required— they 
found plenty of game to hunt, which, together with the roots 
and uncultivated fruits of the earth, furnished a sufficient 
variety for their frugal repasts ; — and that as Heaven merely 
designed the earth to form the abode, and satisfy the wants of 
man; so long as those purposes were answered, the will of 
Heaven was accomplished. — But this only proves how unde- 
sei^ng they were of the blessings around them — they were so 
much the more savages, for not having more wants ; for knowl- 
edge is in some degree an increase of desires, and it is this su- 
periority, both in the number and magnitude of his desires, 
that distinguishes the man from the beast. Therefore, the In- 
dians, in not having more wants, were very unreasonable ani- 
mals ; and it was but just that they should make way for the 
Europeans, who had a thousand wants to their one, and, there- 
fore, would turn the earth to more account, and by cultivating 
it, more truly fulfil the will of Heaven. Besides — Grotius and 
Lauterbach, and Puffendorf, and Titius, and many wise men 
beside, who have considered the matter properly, have deter- 
mined that the property of a country cannot be acquired by 
hunting, cutting wood, or drawing water in it— nothing but 
precise demarcation of limits, and the intention of cultivation, 
can establish the possession. Now, as the savages (probably 
from never having read the authors above quoted) had never 
complied with any of these necessary forms, it plainly followed 
that they had no right to the soil, but that it was completely 
at the disposal of the first comers, who had more knowledge, 
more wants, and more elegant, that is to say, artificial desires 
than themselves. 

In entering upon a newly-discovered, uncultivated country, 
therefore, the new comers were but taking possession of what, 
according to the aforesaid doctrine, was their own property — 
therefore, in opposing them, the savages were invading their 
just rights, infringing the immutable laws of Nature, and coun- 
teracting the will of Heaven — therefore, they were guilty of 
impiety, burglary, and trespass on the case — therefore, they 
were hardened offenders against God and man — therefore, tliey 
ought to be exterminated. 

But a more irresistible right than either that I have men- 
tioned, and one which will be the most readily admitted by my 
reader, provided he be blessed with bowels of charity and phi- 
lanthropy, is the right acquired by civilization. All the world 



48 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

knows the lamentable state in which these poor savages were 
found — not only deficient in the comforts of li^, but what is 
still worse, most piteously and unfortunately bhnd to the mis- 
eries of their situation. But no sooner did the benevolent in- 
habitants of Europe behold their sad condition, than they im- 
mediately went to work to ameliorate and improve it. They 
introduced among them rum, gin, brandy, and the other com- 
forts of hfe— and it is astonishing to read how soon the poor 
savages learned to estimate these blessings— they likewise made 
known to them a thousand remedies, by which the m.ost invet- 
erate diseases are alleviated and healed ; and that they might 
comprehend the benefits and enjoy the comforts of these medi- 
cines, they previously introduced among them the diseases 
which they were calculated to cure. By these and a variety 
of other methods was the condition of these poor savages won- 
derfully improved ; they acquired a thousand wants, of which 
they had before been ignorant ; and as he has most sources of 
happiness who has most wants to be gratified, they were doubt- 
lessly rendered a much happier race of beings. 

But the most important branch of civilization, and which has 
most strenuously been extolled by the zealous and pious fathers 
of the Eomish Church, is the introduction of the Christian 
faith. It was truly a sight that might well inspire horror, to 
behold these savages stumbhng among the dark mountains of 
paganism, and guilty of the most horrible ignorance of rehgion. 
It is true, they neither stole nor defrauded ; they were sober, 
frugal, continent, and faithful to their word ; but though they 
acted right habitually, it was all in vain, unless they acted so 
from precept. The new comers, therefore, used every method 
to induce them to embrace and practise the true rehgion— ex- 
cept indeed that of setting them the example. 

But notwithstanding all these comphcated labors for their 
good, such was the unparalleled obstinacy of these stubborn 
wretches, that they ungratefully refused to acknowledge the 
strangers as their benefactors, and persisted in disbelieving the 
doctrines they endeavoured to inculcate ; most insolently alleg- 
ing, that from their conduct, the advocates of Christianity did 
not seem to believe in it themselves. Was not this too much 
for human patience?— would not one suppose that the benign 
visitants from Europe, provoked at their incredulity, and dis- 
couraged by their stiff-necked obstinacy, would for ever have 
abandoned their shores, and consigned them to their original 
ignorance and misery?— But no— so zealous were they to effect 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 49 

the temporal comfort and eternal salvation of these pagan infi- 
' dels, that they even proceeded from the milder means of per- 
•suasion, to the more painful and troublesome one of persecution, 
Jet loose among them whole troops of fiery monks and furious 
l^loodhounds — purified them by fire and sword, by stake and 
fagot ; in consequence of which indefatigable measures, the 
iause of Christian love and charity was so rapidly advanced, 
ithat in a very few years nob one-fifth of the number of unbe- 
lievers existed in South America that were found there at the 
time of its discovery. 

What stronger right need the European settlers advance to 
the country than this? Have not whole nations of uninformed 
savages been made acquainted with a thousand imperious wants 
and indispensable comforts, of which they were before wholly 
ignorant? Have they not been literally hunted and smoked 
out of the dens and lurking-places of ignorance and infidehty, 
and absolutely scourged into the right path? Have not the 
temporal things, the vain baubles and filthy lucre of this world, 
which were too apt to engage their worldly and selfish thoughts, 
been benevolently taken from them? and have they not, instead 
thereof, been taught to set their affections on things above?— 
And finally, to use the words of a reverend Spanish father, in 
a letter to his superior in Spain—" Can any one have the pre- 
sumption to say, that these savage pagans have yielded any 
thing more than an inconsiderable recompense to their benefac- 
tors, in surrendering to them a httle pitiful tract of this dirty 
sublunary planet, in exchange for a glorious inheritance in the 
kingdom of heaven?" 

Here, then, are three complete and undeniable sources of right 
established, any one of which was more than ample to establish 
a property in the newly-discovered regions of America. Now, 
so it has happened in certain parts of this dehghtful quarter of 
the globe, that the right of discovery has been so strenuously 
asserted— the influence of cultivation so industriously extended, 
and the progress of salvation and civilization so zealously 
prosecuted, that, what with their attendant wars, persecutions, 
oppressions, diseases, and other partial evils that often hang 
on the skirts of great benefits— the savage aborigines have, 
somehow or another, been utterly annihilated- and this all at 
once brings me to a fourth right, which is worth all the others 
put together.— For the original claimants to the soil being all 
dead and buried, and no one remaining to inherit or dispute 
the soil, the Spaniards, as the next immediate occupants, en- 



5Q A HISTORY OF NEW-YORR. 

tered upon the possession as clearly as the hangman succeeds 
to the clothes of the malefactor— and as they have Blackstone,* 
and all the learned expounders of the law on their side, they 
may set all actions of ejectment at defiance — and this last 
right may be entitled the right by extermination, or in other 
words, the right by gunpowder. 

But lest any scruples of conscience should remain on this 
head, and to settle the question of right for ever, his holiness 
Pope Alexander VI. issued a bull, by which he generously 
granted the newly-discovered quarter of the globe to the Span- 
iards and Portuguese; who, thus having law and gospel on 
their side, and being inflamed with great spiritual zeal, showed 
the pagan savages neither favour nor affection, but prosecuted 
the work of discovery, colonization, civilization, and extermi- 
nation, with ten times more fury than ever. 

Thus were the European worthies who first discovered 
America, clearly entitled to the soil ; and not only entitled to 
the son, but likewise to the eternal thanks of these infidel 
savages, for having come so far, endured so many perils by sea 
and land, and taken such unwearied pains, for no other pur- 
pose but to improve tlieir forlorn, uncivilized, and heathenish 
condition— for having made them acquainted with the com- 
forts of life ; for having introduced among them the. Hght of 
religion; and, finally, for having hurried them out of the 
world, to enjoy its reward ! 

But as argument is never so well understood by us selfish 
mortals as when it comes home to ourselves, and as I am par- 
ticularly anxious that this question should be put to rest for 
ever, I will suppose a parallel case, by way of arousing the 
candid attention of my readers. 

Let us suppose, then, that the inhabitants of the moon, by 
astonishing advancement in science, and by profound insight 
into that lunar philosophy, the mere fiickerings of which have 
of late years dazzled the feeble optics, and addled the shallow 
brains of the good people of our globe — let us suppose, I say, 
that the inhabitants of the moon, by these means, had arrived 
at such a command of their energies^ such an enviable state of 
perfectibility, as to control the elements, and navigate the 
boundless regions of space. Let us suj^pose a roving crew of 
these soaring philosophers, in the course of an aerial voyage of 



*B1. Com. b. ii.c. 1. 



\ A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 51 

\ discovery among the stars, should chance to ahght upon this 
\ outlandish planet. 

\ And here I beg my readers will not have the uncharitable- 
Wess to smile, as is too frequently the fault of volatile readers, 
When perusing the grave speculations of p^losophers. I am 
far from indulging in any sportive vein at present ; nor is the 
supposition I have been making so wild as many may deem it. 
Ht has long been a very serious and anxious question with me, 
slnd many a time and oft, in the course of my overwhelming 
c^res and contrivances for the welfare and protection of this 
niy native planet, have I lain awake whole nights debating in 
my mind, whether it were most probable we should first dis- 
cover and civilize the moon, or the moon discover and civilize 
our globe. Neither would the prodigy of sailing in the air and 
cruising among the stars be a whit more astonishing and in- 
comprehensible to us, than was the European mystery of navi- 
gating floating castles, through the world of waters, to the 
simple savages. We have already discovered the art of coast- 
ing along the aerial shores of our planet, by means of balloons, 
as the savages had of venturing along their sea-coasts in 
canoes ; and the disparity between the former, and the aerial 
vehicles of the philosophers from the moon, might not be 
greater than that between the bark canoes of the savages and 
the mighty sliips of their discoverers. I might here pursue an 
endless chain of similar speculations ; but as they would be un- 
important to my subject, I abandon them to my reader, par- 
ticularly if he be a philosopher, as matters well worthy of his 
attentive consideration. 

To return then to my supposition — let us suppose that the 
aerial visitants I have mentioned, possessed of vastly superior 
knowledge to ourselves; that is to say, possessed of superior 
knowledge in the art of extermination — riding on hippogriffs — 
defended with impenetrable armour— armed with concentrated 
sunbeams, and provided with vafjt engines, to hurl enormous 
moon-stones : in short, let us suppose them, if our vanity will 
permit the supposition, as superior to us in knowledge, and 
consequently in power, as the Europeans were to the Indians, 
when they first discovered them. All this is very possible ; it 
is only our self-sufficiency that makes us think otherwise ; and 
I warrant the poor savages, before they had any knowledge of 
the white men, armed in all the terrors of glittering steel and 
tremendous gunpowder, were as perfectly convinced that they 
themselves were the wisest, the most virtuous, powerful, and 



52 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

perfect of created beings, as are at this present moment the 
lordly inhabitants of Old England, the volatile populace of 
France or even the self-satisfied citizens of tliis most enlight- 
ened republic. 

Let us suppose, moreover, that the aerial voyagers, finding 
tliis planet to be nothing but a howling wilderness, inhabited 
by us, poor savages and wild beasts, shall take formal posses- 
sion of it in the name of his most gracious and philosophic 
excellency, the man in the moon. Finding, however, that 
their numbers are incompetent to hold it in complete subjec- 
tion, on account of the ferocious barbarity of its inhabitants, 
they shall take our worthy President, the King of England, 
the Emperor of Hayti, the mighty Bonaparte, and the great 
King of Bantam, and returning to their native planet, shall 
carry them to court, as were the Indian chiefs led about as 
spectacles in the courts of Europe. 

Then making such obeisance as the etiquette of the court re- 
quires, they shall address the puissant man in the moon, in, as 
near as I can conjecture, the following terms: 

''Most serene and mighty Potentate, whose dominions ex- 
tend as far as eye can reach, who rideth on the Great Bear, 
^ iSeth the sun as a looking-glass, and maintaineth unrivalled 
control over tides, madmen, and sea-crabs : We, thy liege sub- 
jects, have just returned from a voyage of discovery, in the 
course of which we have landed and taken possession of that 
obscure little dirty planet which thou beholdest rolling at a 
distance. The five uncouth monsters which we have brought 
into this august presence were once very important chiefs 
among their fellow-savages, who are a race of beings totally 
destitute of the common attributes of humanity ; and differing 
in every thing from the inhabitants of the moon, inasmuch as 
they carry their heads upon their shoulders, instead of under 
their arms — have two eyes instead of one— are utterly destitute 
of tails, and of a variety of unseemly complexions, particularly 
of a horrible whiteness — instead of pea-green. 

"We have, moreover, found these miserable savages sunk 
into a state of the utmost ignorance and depravity, every man 
shamelessly hving with his own wife, and rearing his own 
children, instead of indulging in that community of wives en- 
joined by the law of nature, as expounded by the philosophers 
of the moon. In a word, they have scarcely a gleam of true 
philosophy among them, but are, in fact, utter heretics, igno- 
ramuses, and barbarians. Taking compassion, therefore, on 



^ A HISTORY OF NEW-YOUK. 53 

I the sad condition of these sublunary wretches, we nave endea- 
\ voured, while we remained on their planet, to introduce among 
Ithem the light of reason — and the comforts of the moon. We 
Ihave treated them to niouthfuls of moonshine, and draughts 
Ipf nitrous oxyde, which they swallowed with incredible vora- 
(;ity, particularly the females; and we have likewise endea- 
voured to instil into them the precepts of lunar philosophy. 
Ve have insisted upon their renouncing the contemptible 
sjiackles of religion and common sense, and adoring the pro- 
found, omnipotent, and aU-perfect energy, and the ecstatic, 
immutable, immoveable perfection. But such was the un- 
paralleled obstinacy of these wretched savages, that they per- 
sisted in cleaving to their wives, and adhering to their religion, 
and absolutely set at nougbffc the sublime doctrines of the moon 
— nay, among other abominable heresies, they even went so far 
as blasphemously to declare, that this ineffable planet was 
made of nothing more nor less than green cheese !" 

At these words, the great man in the moon (being a very 
profound philosopher) shaU fall into a terrible passion, and 
possessing equal authority over things that do not belong to 
him, as did whilome his holiness the Pope, shall forthwith issue 
a formidable bull, specifying, ' ' That, whereas a certain crew 
of Lunatics have lately discovered, and taken possession of, a 
newly-discovered planet called the earth — and that whereas it 
is inhabited by none but a race of two-legged animals, that 
carry their heads on their shoulders instead of under their 
arms ; cannot talk the lunatic language ; have two eyes instead 
of one; are destitute of tails, and of a horrible whiteness, 
instead of pea-green— therefore, and for a variety of other ex- 
cellent reasons, they are considered incapable of possessing 
any property in the planet they infest, and the right and title 
to it are confirmed to its original discoverers.— And further- 
more, the colonists who are now about to depart to the afore- 
said planet are authorized and commanded to use every means 
to convert these infidel savages from the darkness of Chris- 
tianity, and make them thorough and absolute Lunatics. " 

In consequence of this benevolent bull, our philosophic bene- 
factors go to work with hearty zeal. They seize upon our 
fertile territories, scourge us from our rightful possessions, 
relieve us from our wives, and when we are unreasonable 
enough to complain, they will turn upon us, and say : Miserable 
barbarians ! ungrateful wretches ! have we not come thousands 
of miles to improve your worthless planet? have we not fed 



54 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

you with moonshine? have we not intoxicated you with 
nitrous oxyde? does not our moon give you hght every night, 
and have you the baseness to murmur, when we claim a piti- 
ful return for all these benefits? But finding that we not only 
persist in absolute contempt of their reasoning and disbehef in 
their philosophy, but even go so far as daringly to defend our 
property, their patience shall be exhausted, and they shall 
resort to their superior powers of argument; hunt us with 
hippogriffs, transfix us with concentrated sun-beams, demohsh 
our cities with moon-stones ; until having, by main force, con- 
verted us to the true faith, they shall graciously permit us to 
exist in the torrid deserts of Arabia, or the frozen regions of 
Lapland, there to enjoy the blessings of civilization and the 
charms of lunar philosophy, in much the same manner as the 
reformed . and enlightened savages of this country are kindly 
suffered to inhabit the inhospitable forests of the north, or the 
impenetrable wildernesses of South America. 

Thus, I hope, I have clearly proved, and strikingly illus- 
trated, the right of the early colonists to the possession of this 
country; and thus is this gigantic question completely van- 
quished: so having manfully surmounted all obstacles, and 
subdued all opposition, what remains but that I should forth- 
with conduct my readers into the city which we have been 
so long in a manner besieging? But hold — before I proceed 
another step, I must pause to take breath, and recover from 
the excessive fatigue I bave undergone, in preparing to begin 
this most accurate of histories. And in this I do but imitate 
the example of a renowned Dutch tumbler of antiquity, who 
took a start of three miles for the purpose of jumping over a 
hill, but having run himself out of breath by the time he 
reached the foot, sat himself quietly down for a few moments 
to blow, and then walked over it at liis leisure. 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 55 



BOOK II. 

TREATING OF THE EIJ^ST SETTIEMENT OF THE 
PROVINCE OF NIEUW-NEDERLANDTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

IN WHICH ARE CONTAINED DIVERS REASONS WHY A MAN SHOULD 
NOT WRITE IN A HURRY. ALSO, OF MASTER HENDRICK HUD- 
SON, HIS DISCOVERY OF A STRANGE COUNTRY — AND HOW HE 
WAS MAGNIFICENTLY REWARDED BY THE MUNIFICENCE OF 
THEIR HIGH MIGHTINESSES. 

My great-grandfather, by the mother's side, Hermanus Van 
Clattercop, when employed to build the large stone church at 
Eotterdam, which stands about three hundred yards to your 
left after you turn off from the Boomkeys, and which is so 
conveniently constructed, that all the zealous Christians of 
Rotterdam prefer sleeping through a sermon there to any 
other church in the city — my great-grandfather, I say, when 
employed to build that famous church, did, in the first place, 
send to Delft for a box of long pipes ; then, having purchased 
a new spitting-box and a hundred weight of the best Virginia, 
he sat himself down, and did nothing for the space of three 
months but smoke most laboriously. Then did he spend full 
three months more in trudging on foot, and voyaging in trck- 
schuit, from Rotterdam to Amsterdam — to Delft — to Haerlem— 
to Leyden — to the Hague, knocking his head and breaking his 
pipe against every church in his road. Then did he advance 
gradually nearer and nearer to Rotterdam, until he came in 
full sight of the identical spot whereon the church was to be 
built. Then did he spend three months longer in walking 
round it and round it, contemplating it, first from one point of 
view, and then from another— now would he be paddled by it 
on the canal — now would he peep at it through a telescope, 
from the other side of the Meuse, and now would he take a 



56 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

bird's-eye glance at it, from the top of one of those gigantic 
windmills which protect the gates of the city. The good folks 
of the -nlace were on the tiptoe of expectation and impatience 
--notwithstanding all the turmoil of mj^ great-grandfather, 
not a symptom of the church was yet to be seen ; they even 
began to fear it would never be brought into the world, but 
that its great projector would lie down and die in labour of 
the mighty plan he had conceived. At length, having occu- 
pied twelve good months in puffing and paddling, and talking 
and walking — having travelled over all Holland, and even 
taken a peep into France and Germany — having smoked five 
hundred and ninety-nine pipes, and three hundred weight of 
the best Virginia tobacco— my great-grandfather gathered to- 
gether all that knowing and industrious class of citizens who 
prefer attending to any body's business sooner than their own, 
and having pulled off his coat and five pair of breeches, he 
advanced sturdily up, and laid the corner-stone of the church, 
in the presence of the whole multitude — just at the commence- 
ment of the thirteenth month. 

In a similar manner, and with the exa^nple of my worthy 
ancestor full before my eyes, have I proceeded in writing this 
raost authentic history. The honest Rotterdamers no doubt 
thought my great-grandfather was doing nothing at aU to the 
■purpose, while he was making such a world of prefatory 
bustle, about the building of his church— and many of the in- 
genious inhabitants of this fair city wiU unquestionably sup- 
pose that all the preliminary chapters, with the discovery, 
population, and final settlement of America, were totally irre- 
levant and superfluous — and that the main business, the his- 
tory of New York, is not a jot more advanced than if I had 
never taken up my pen. Never were wise people more rnis- 
taken in their conjectures ; in consequence of going to work 
slowly and deliberately, the church came out of my grand- 
father's hands one of the most sumptuous, goodly, and glorious 
sdifices in the known world — excepting that, like our magni- 
ficent capitol, at Washington, it was begim on so grand a scale 
that the good folks could not afford to finish more than the 
wing of it. So, likewise, I trust, if ever I am able to finish 
this work on the plan I have commenced, (of which, in simple 
truth, I sometimes have my doubts,) it will be found that I 
have pursued the latest rules of my art, as exemplified in the 
writings of all the great American historians, and wrought a 
very large history out of a small subject — which now-a-days is 



A ni STOUT OF jyEW-TOEK. 57 

considered one of the great triumphs of historic skill. To pro- 
ceed, then, with the thread of my story. 

In the ever- memorable year of our Lord, 1609, on a Satur- 
day morning, the five-and-twentieth day of March, old style, did 
that "worthy and irrecoverable discoverer, (as he has justly 
been called,) Master Henry Hudson," set sail from Holland in a 
stout vessel called the Half Moon, being employed by the Dutch 
East India Company, to seek a north-west passage to China. 

Henry (or, as the Dutch historians caU him, Hendrick) 
Hudson, was a sea- faring man of renown, who had learned to 
smoke tobacco under Sir Walter Ealeigh, and is said to have 
been the first to introduce it into HoUand, which gained him 
much popularity in that country, and caused him to find great 
favour in the eyes of their High Mightinesses, the Lords States 
General, and also of the honourable West India Company. 
He was a short, square, brawny old gentleman, with a double 
chin, a mastiff mouth, and a broad copper nose, which was 
supposed in those days to have acquired its fiery hue from 
the constant neighbourhood of his tobacco-pipe. 

He wore a true Andrea Ferrara, tucked in a leathern belt, 
and a commodore's cocked hat on one side of his head. He 
was remarkable for always jerking up his breeches when he 
gave out his orders; and his voice sounded not unhke the 
brattling of a tin trumpet — owing to the number of* hard 
north- westers which he had swallowed in the course of his sea- 
faring. 

Such was Hendrick Hudson, of whom we have heard so 
much, and know so little : and I have been thus particular in 
his description, for the benefit of modern painters and statu- 
aries, that they may represent him as he was ; and not, accord- 
ing to their common custom with modern heroes, make him 
look like Csesar, or Marcus Aurelius, or the Apollo of Belvi- 
dere. 

As chief mate and favourite companion, the commodore 
chose master Robert Juet, of Limehouse, in England. By 
some his name has been speUed Chewit, and ascribed to the 
circumstance of his having been the first man that ever 
chewed tobacco; but this I believe to be a mere flippancy; 
more especially as certain of his progeny are living at this 
day, who write their name Juet. He was an old comrade and 
early schoolmate of the great Hudson, with whom he had 
often played truant and sailed chip boats in a neighbouring 
pond, when they were little boys — from whence it is said the 



58 A HISTORY OF NEW-YOliK. 

commodore first derived his bias towards a sea-faring life. 
Certain it is, that the old people about Limehouse declared 
Eobert Juet to be an unlucky urchin, prone to mischief, that 
would one day or other come to the gallows. 

He grew up as boys of that kind often grow up, a rambling, 
heedless varlet, tossed about in all quarters of the world — 
meeting with more perils and wonders than did Sindbad the 
Sailor, without growing a whit more wise, prudent, or ill- 
natured. Under every misfortune, he comforted himself with 
a quid of tobacco, and the truly philosophic maxim, that ' ' it 
will be all the same thing a hundred years hence. " He was 
skilled in the art of carving anchors and true-lovers' knots on 
the bulk-heads and quarter-railings, and was considered a great 
wit on board ship, in consequence of his playing pranks on 
every body around, and now and then even making a wry 
face at old Hendrick, when his back was turned. 

To this universal genius are we indebted for many parti- 
culars concerning this voyage; of which he wrote a history, 
at the request of the commodore, who had an unconquerable 
aversion to writing hunself, frcm having received so many 
floggings about it when at school. To supply the deficiencies 
of master Juet's journal, which is written with true log-book 
brevity, I have availed myself of divers family traditions, 
handed down from my great-great-grandfather, who accom- 
panied the expedition in the capacity of cabin-boy. 

From aU that I can learn, few incidents worthy of remark 
happened in the voyage ; and it mortifies me exceedingly that 
I have to admit so noted an expedition into my work, without 
making any more of it. 

Suffice it to say, the voyage was prosperous and tranquil — 
the crew being a patient people, much given to slumber and 
vacuity, and but little troubled with the disease of thinking — a 
malady of the mind, which is the sure breeder of discontent. 
Hudson had laid in abundance of gin and sourkrout, and every 
man was allowed to sleep quietly at his post unless the wind 
blew. True it is, some slight disaffection was shown on two 
or three occasions, at certain unreasonable conduct of Com- 
modore Hudson. Thus, for instance, he forbore to shorten 
sail when the wind was light, and the weather serene, which 
was considered, among the most experienced Dutch seamen, 
as certain iceather-breeders, or prognostics, that the weather 
would change for the worse. He acted, moreover, in direct 
contradiction to that ancient and sage rule of the Dutch navi' 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 59 

gators, who alwas took in sail at night — ^put the helm a-port, 
and turned in— by which precaution they had a good night's 
rest — were sure of knowing where they were the next morning, 
and stood but little chance of i-unning down a continent in the 
dark. He likewise prohibited the seamen from wearing more 
than five jackets and six pair of breeches, under pretence of 
rendering them more alert ; and no man was permitted to go 
aloft, and hand in sails with a pipe in his mouth, as is the in- 
variable Dutch custom at the present day. All these griev- 
ances, though they might ruffle for a moment the constitu- 
tional tranquillity of the honest Dutch tars, made but transient 
impression; they eat hugely, drank profusely, and slept im- 
measurably, and being under the especial guidance of Pro- 
vidence, the ship was safely conducted to the coast of America; 
where, after sundry unimportant touchings and standings oft 
and on, she at length, on the fourth day of September, entered 
that majestic bay, which at this day expands its ample bosom 
before the city of New- York, and which had never before been 
visited by any European.* 

It has been traditionary in our family, that when the great 
navigator was first blessed with a view of this enchanting 
island, he was observed, for the first and only time in his 
life, to exhibit strong symptoms of astonishment and admi- 
ration. He is said to have turned to master Juet, and 

* True it is— and I am not ignorant of the fact, that in a certain apocryphal book 
of voyages, compiled by one Hakluyt, is to be found a letter written to Francis the 
First, by one Giovanne, or John Verazzani, on which some writers are inclined to 
found a belief that this delightful bay had been visited nearly a century previous to 
the voyage of the enterprising Hudson. Now this (albeit it has met with the coun- 
tenance of certain very judicious and learned men) I hold in utter disbelief, and 
that for various good and substantial reasons: i^/rs#, Because on strict examina- 
tion it will be foimd, that the description given by this Verazzani applies about as 
well to the bay of New-York as it does to my night-cap. Secondly, Because that this 
John Verazzani, for whom I already begin to feel a most bitter enmity, is a native 
of Florence; and every body knows the crafty wilos of these losel Florentines, by 
which they filched away the laurels from the brows of the immortal Colon, (vulg?r- 
ly called Columbus,) and bestowed them on their officious townsman. Amerigo 
Vespucci; and I make no doubt they are equally ready to rob the illustrious Hud- 
son of the credit of discovering this beautiful island, adorned by the city of New- 
York, and placing it beside their usurped discovery of South America. And, 
thirdly, I award my decision in favour of the pretensions of Hendrick Hudson, in- 
asmuch as his expedition sailed from Holland, being truly and absolutely a Dutch 
enterprise — and though all the proofs in the world were introduced on the other 
side, I would set them at nought, as undeserving my attention. If these three 
reasons be not sufficient to satisfy every burgher ot this ancient city— all I can say 
is, they are degenerate descendants from their venerable Dutch ancestors, and 
totally unworthy the trouble of convincing. Thus, therefore, the title of Hendrick 
Hudson to his renowned discovery is fully vindicated. 



60 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORE. 

uttered these remarkable words, while he pointed towards 
this paradise of the new world — "See! there!" — and there- 
upon, as was always his way when he was uncommonly 
pleased, he did puff out such clouds of dense tobacco-smoke, 
that in one minute the vessel was out of sight of iand, and 
master Juet was fain to. wait until the winds dispersed this 
impenetrable fog. 

It was indeed — as my great-great-grandfather used to say 
—though in truth I never heard him, for he died, as might 
be expected, before I was born — "it was indeed a spot on 
which the eye might have revelled for ever, in ever-new 
and never-ending beauties/' The island of Mannahata spread 
wide before them, like some sweet vision of fancy, or some 
fair creation of industrious magic. Its hills of smiling green 
swelled gently one above another, crowned with lofty trees 
of luxuriant growth; some pointing their tapering foliage 
towards the clouds, which were gloriously transparent; and 
others loaded with a verdant burthen of clambering vines, 
bowing their branches to the earth, that was covered with 
flowers. On the gentle declivities of the hills were scattered, 
in gay profusion, the dog-wood, the sumach, and the wild 
brier, whose scarlet berries and white blossoms glowed 
brightly among the deep green of the surrounding foliage; 
and here and there a curhng column of smoke rising from 
the little glens that opened along the shore, seemed to promise 
the weary voyagers a welcome at the hands of their fellow- 
creatures. As they stood gazing with entranced attention 
on the scene before them, a red man, crowned with feathers, 
issued from one of these glens, and after contemplating in 
silent wonder the gallant ship, as she sat like a stately swan 
swimming on a silver lake, sounded the war-whoop, and 
bounded into the woods hke a wild deer, to the utter astonish- 
ment of the phlegmatic Dutchmen, who had never heard such 
a noise, or witnessed such a caper, in their whole lives. 

Of the transactions of our adventurers with the savages, 
and how the latter smoked copper pipes, and ate dried cur- 
rants ; how they brought great store of tobacco and oysters ; 
how they shot one of 1?he ship's crew, and how he was buried, 
I shall say nothing ; being that I consider them unimportant 
to my history. After tarrying a few days in the bay, in order 
to refresh themselves after their sea-faring, our voyagers 
weighed anchor, to explore a mighty river which emptied into 
the bay. This river, it is said, was known among the savages 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 61 

by the name of the Sliatemuck; though we are assured, in an 
excellent little history published in 1674, by John Josselyn, 
Gent., that it was called the Mohegan* and master Eichard 
Bloonie, who wrote some time afterwards, asserts the same— so 
that I very much inchne in favour of the opinion of these 
two honest gentlemen. Be this as it may, up this river did 
the adventurous Hendrick proceed, Mitle doubting but it 
would turn out to be the much-looked-for passage to China ! 

The journal goes on to make mention of divers interviews 
between the crew and the natives, in the voyage up the 
river; but as they would be impertinent to my history, I shall 
pass over them in silence, except the following dry joke, 
played off by the old commodore and his school-fellow, Robert 
Juet, wliich does such vast credit to their experimental philo- 
sophy, that I cannot refrain from inserting it. "Our master 
and his mate determined to try some of the chiefe men of the 
countrey, whether they had any treacherie in them. So they 
tooke them downe into the cabin and gave them so much wine 
and aqua vitee, that they were all merrie ; and one of them 
had his wife with him, which sate so modestly, as any of our 
countrey women would do in a strange place. In the end one 
of them was drunke, which had been aboarde of our ship all 
the time that we had been there, and that was strange to them, 
for they could not tell how to take it. "f 

Having satisfied himself by this ingenious experiment, that 
the natives were an honest, social race of jolly r oysters, who 
had no objection to a drinking bout, and were very merry in 
their cups, the old commodore chuckled hugely to himself, and 
thrusting a double quid of tobacco in his cheek, directed mas- 
ter Juet to have it carefully recorded, for the satisfaction of 
all the natural philosophers of the university of Leyden — 
which done, he proceeded on his voyage, with great self-compla- 
cency. After saihng, however, above a hundred miles up the 
river, he found the watery world around him began to grow 
more shallow and confined, the current more rapid, and per- 
fectly fresh — phenomena not uncommon in the ascent of 
rivers, but which puzzled the honest Dutchmen prodigiously. 
A consultation was therefore called, and having dehberated 
full six hours, they were brought to a determmation, by the 
ship's running aground — whereupon they unanimously con- 

* This river is likewise laid down in Ogilvy's map as Manhattan— Noordt—Mon 
taigne and Mauritius river. 
t Juet's Journ. Purch. Pil. 



62 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

eluded, that there was but Httle chance of getting to China in 
this direction. A boat, however, was despatched to explore 
higher up the river, which, on its return, confirmed the 
opinion — upon this the ship was warped off and put about, with 
great difiiculty, being, like most of her sex, exceedingly hard 
to govern ; and the adventurous Hudson, according to the ac- 
count of my great-great-grandfather, returned down the river 
— with a prodigious flea in his ear ! 

Being satisfied that there was little Hkelihood of getting to 
China, unless, like the bhnd man, he returned from whence he 
set out, and took a fresh start, he forthwith recrossed the sea 
to Holland, where he was received with great welcome by the 
honourable East India Company, who very much rejoiced to 
see him come back safe — with their ship ; and at a large and 
respectable meeting of the first merchants and burgomasters of 
Amsterdam, it was unanimously determined, that as a munifi- 
cent reward for the eminent services he had performed, and 
the important discovery he had made, the great river Mohegan 
should be called after his name ! — and it continues to be ceiUed 
Hudson river unto this very day. 



CHAPTER II. 



CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF A MIGHTY ARK, WHICH FLOATED, 
UNDER THE PROTECTION OF ST. NICHOLAS, FROM HOLLAND TO 
GIBBET ISLAND — THE DESCENT OF THE STRANGE ANIMALS THERE- 
FROM — A GREAT VICTORY, AND A DESCRIPTION OF THE ANCIENT 
VILLAGE OF COMMUNIPAW. 

The delectable accounts given by the great Hudson, and 
master Juet, of the country they had discovered, excited not a 
little talk and speculation among the good people of Holland. 
Letters-patent were granted by government to an association 
of merchants, called the West India Company, for the exclusive 
trade on Hudson river, on which they erected a trading house 
called Fort Aurania, or Orange, from whence did spring the 
great city of Albany. But I forbear to dwell on the various 
commercial and colonizing enterprises which took place ; among 
which was that of Mynheer Adrian Block, who discovered and 
gave a name to Block Island, since famous for its cheese— and 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 63 

shall barely confine myself to that which gave birth to this re- 
nowned city. 

It was some three or four years after the return of the im- 
mortal Hendrick, that a crew of honest, Low, Dutch colonists 
set sail from the city of Amsterdam for the shores of America. 
It i3 an irreparable loss to history, and a great proof of the 
darkness of the age, and the lamentable noglect of the noble art 
?f book-making, since so industriously cultivated by knowing 
3ea-captams, and learned supercargoes, that an expedition so 
interesting and important in its results, should be passed over 
in utter silence. To my great-great-grandfather am I again 
indebted for the few facts I am enabled to give concerning it-^ 
he having once more embarked for this country, with a fuU 
determmation, as he said, of ending his days here — and of be- 
getting a race of Knickerbockers, that should rise to be great 
men in the land. 

The ship in wliich these illustrious adventurers set sail, was 
called the Goede Vrouiv, or good woman, in compliment to the 
wife of the President of the West India Company, who was al- 
lowed by every body (except her husband) to be a sweet-tem- 
pered lady — when not in liquor. It was in truth a most gallant 
vessel, of the most approved Dutch construction, and made by 
the ablest ship-carpenters of Amsterdam, who, it is well known, 
always model their ships after the fair forms of their country- 
women. Accordingly, it had one hundred feet in the beam, 
one hundred feet in the keel, and one hundred feet from the 
bottom of the stern-post to the tafferel. Like the beauteous 
model, who was declared to be the greatest belle in Amster- 
dam, it was full in the bows, with a pair of enormous cat- 
heads, a copper bottom, and, withal, a most prodigious poop ! 

The architect, who was somewhat of a religious man, far 
from decorating the ship with pagan idols, such as Jupiter, 
Neptune, or Hercules, (which heathenish abominations, I have 
no doubt, occasion the misfortunes and shipwreck of many a 
noble vessel,) he, I say, on the contrary, did laudably erect for 
a head, a goodly image of St. Nicholas, equipped with a low, 
broad-brimmed hat, a huge pair of Flemish trunk-hose, and a 
pipe that reached to the end of the bowsprit. Thus gallantly 
furnished, the staunch ship floated sideAvays, like a majestic 
goose, out of the harbour of the great city of Amsterdam, and 
all the bells, that were not otherwise engaged, rang a triple 
bobmajor on the joyful occasion. 

My great-great-grandfather remarks, that the voyage was 



64 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-TORR. 

uncommonly prosperous, for, being under the especial care of 
the ever-revered St. Nicholas, the Goede Vrouw seemed to be 
endowed with qualities unknown to common vessels. Thus she 
made as much lee- way as head-way, could get along very 
nearly as fast with the wind a-head, as when it was a-poop— 
and was particularly great in a calm ; in consequence of which 
singular advantages, she made out to accomplish her voyage in 
a very few months, and came to anchor at the mouth of the 
Hudson, a little to the east of Gibbet Island. 

Here lifting up their eyes, they beheld, on what is at present 
called the Jersey shore, a small Indian village, pleasantly em- 
bowered in a grove of spreading elms, and the natives all col- 
lected on the beach, gazing in stupid admiration at the Goede 
Vrouw. A boat was immediately despatched to enter into a 
treaty with them, and approaching the shore, hailed them 
through a trumpet in most friendly terms ; but so horribly con- 
founded were these poor savages at the tremendous and uncouth 
sound of the Low Dutch language, that they one and aU took to 
their heels, and scampered over the Bergen hills ; nor did they 
stop until they had buried themselves, head and ears, in the 
marshes on the other side, where they all miserably perished 
to a man — and their bones being collected and decently covered 
by the Tammany Society of that day, formed that singular 
mound called Rattlesnake Hill, which rises out of the centre 
of the salt marshes, a little to the east of the Newark Cause- 
way. 

Animated by this unlooked-for victory, our vahant heroes 
sprang ashore in triumph, took possession of the soil as con- 
querors in the name of their High Mightinesses the Lords States 
General ; and marching fearlessly forward, carried the village 
of CoMMUNiPAW by storm, notwithstanding that it was vigor- 
ously defended by some haK-a-score of old squaws and pap- 
pooses. On looking about them, they were so transported with 
the excellencies of the place, that they had very httle doubt the 
blessed St. Nicholas had guided them thither, as the very spot 
whereon to settle their colony. The softness of the soil was 
wonderf uUy adapted to the driving of piles ; the swamps and 
marshes around them afforded ample opportunities for the 
constructing of dikes and dams ; the shallowness of the shore 
was peculiarly favourable to the building of docks — in a word, 
this spot abounded with all tiie requisites for the foundation of 
a great Dutch city. On making a faithful report, therefore, to 
the crew of the Goede Vrouw, they one and all determined that 



A BISTORT OF NEW- YORK. 65 

this was the destined end of their voyage. Accordingly they 
descended from the Goede Vrouw, men, women, and children, 
in goodly groups, as did the animals of yore from the ark, and 
formed themselves into a thriving settlement, which they called 
by the Indian name Communipaw. 

As all the world is doubtless perfectly acquainted with Com- 
munipaw, it may seem somewhat superfluous to treat of it in 
the present work; but my readers will please to recollect, that 
notwithstanding it is my chief desire to satisfy the present age, 
yet I write likewise for posterity, and have to consult the 
understanding and curiosity of some half a score of centuries 
yet to come ; by which time, perhaps, were it not for tliis in- 
valuable history, the great Communipaw, like Babylon, Car- 
thage, Nineveh, and other great cities, might be perfectly ex- 
tinct — sunk and forgotten in its own mud — its inhabitants 
turned into. oysters,* and even its situation a fertile subject of 
learned controversy and hard-head®d investigation among in- 
defatigable historians. Let me then piously rescue from ob- 
livion the humble relics of a place which was the eg^ from 
whence was hatched the mighty city of New-York ! 

Communipaw is at present but a small village pleasantly sit- 
uated, among rural scenery, on that beauteous part of the Jer- 
sey shore which was known in ancient legends by the name of 
Pavonia,t and commands a grand prospect of the superb bay 
of New- York. It is within but half an hour's sail of the latter 
place, provided you have a fair wind, and may be distinctly 
seen from the city. Nay, it is a well-known fact, which I can 
testify from my own experience, that on a clear still summer 
evening, you may hear, from the Battery of New- York, the 
obstreperous peals of broad-mouthed laughter of the Dutch 
negroes at Communipaw, who, like most other negroes, are 
famous for their risible powers. This is peculiarly the case on 
Sunday evenings, when, it is remarked by an ingenious and 
observant philosopher, who has made great discoveries in the 
neighbourhood of this city, that they always laugh loudest — 
which he attributes to the circumstance of their having their 
holiday clothes on. 

These negroes, in fact, like the monks in the dark ages, 
engross all the knowledge of the place, and being infinitely 



* Men by inaction deg'enerate into oysters.— K"aiwes. 

t Pavonia, in the ancient maps, is given to a tract of country extending from 
about Hoboken to Amboy. 



66 A HISTORY OF NEW-70EK. 

/nore adventurous and more knowing than their masters, carry 
on all the foreign trade ; making frequent voyages to town in 
canoes loaded with oysters, buttermilk, and cabbages. They 
are great astrologers, predicting the different changes of 
weather almost as accurately as an ahnanac— they are more- 
over exquisite performers on tnree-stringed fiddles : in whis- 
tling, they almost boast the far-famed powers of Orpheus's lyre, 
for not a horse or an ox in the place, when at the plough or 
before the wagon, will budge a foot until he hears the well- 
known whistle of his black driver and companion.— And from 
their amazing skill at casting up accounts upon their fingers, 
they are regarded with as much venci-ation as were the disci- 
ples of Pythagoras of yore, when initiated into the sacred qua- 
ternary of numbers. 

As to the honest burghers of Communipaw, like wise men 
and sound philosophers, they never look beyond their pipes, 
nor trouble their heads about any affairs out of their immediate 
neighbourhood; so that they live in profound and enviable 
ignorance of all the troubles, anxieties, and revolutions of this 
distracted planet. I amx even told that many among them do 
verily believe that Holland, of which they have heard so much 
from tradition, is situated somewhere on Long Island— that 
SprJcing-devil and the Narroics are the two ends of the world 
—that the country is still under the dominion of their High 
Mightinesses, and that the city of New- York still goes by the 
name of Nieuw- Amsterdam. They meet every Saturday after- 
noon at the only tavern in the place, which bears as a sign, a 
square-headed hkeness of the Prince of Orange, where they 
smoke a silent pipe, by way of promoting social conviviality, 
and invariably drink a mug of cider to the success of Admiral 
Van Tromp, who they imagine is still sweeping the British 
channel, with a broom at his mast-head. 

Communipaw, in short, is one of the numerous little villages 
in the vicinity of this most beautiful of cities, which are so 
many strong-holds and fastnesses, whither the primitive man- 
ners of our Dutch forefathers have retreated, and where they 
are cherished with devout and scrupulous strictness. The 
dress of the original settlers is handed down inviolate, from 
father to son— the identical broad-brimmed hat, broad-skirted 
coat, and broad-bottomed breeches continue from generation to 
generation ; and several gigantic knee-buckles of massy silver 
are still in wear, that made gallant display in the days of the 
patriarchs of Communipaw. The language likewise continues 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 67 

imadulterated by barbarous innovations ; and so critically cor- 
rect is the village schoolmaster in his dialect, that his reading 
of a Low Dutch psalm has much the same effect on the nerves 
as the filing of a handsaw. 



CHAPTER III. 

m WHICH IS SET FORTH THE TRUE ART OF MAKING A BARGATN" 
— TOGETHER WITH THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE OF A GREAT ME- 
TROPOLIS IN A FOG — AND THE BIOGRAPHY OF CERTAIN HEROES 
OF COMMUNIPAW. 

Having, in the trifling digression which concluded the last 
chapter, discharged the filial duty which the city of New- York 
owed to Communipaw, as being the mother settlement; and 
having given a faithful picture of it as it stands at present, I 
return with a soothing sentiment of self-api^robation, to dwell 
upon its early history. The crew of the Goede Vrouw being 
soon reinforced by fresh importations from Holland, the settle- 
ment went jollily on, increasing in magnitude and prosperity. 
The neighbouring Indians in a short time became accustomed 
to the uncouth sound of the Dutch language, and an inter- 
course gradually took place between them and the new comers. 
The Indians were much given to long talks, and the Dutch to 
long silence — in this particular, therefore, they accommodated 
each other completely^ The chiefs would make long speeches 
about the big bull, the wabash, and the great spirit, to which 
the others would listen very attentively, smoke their pipes, and 
gi'unt ijah, m yn-her — whereat the poor savages were wondrously 
delighted. They instructed the new settlers in the best art of 
curing and smoking tobacco, while the latter, in return, made 
them drunk with true Hollands— and then taught them the art 
of making bargains. 

A brisk trade for furs was soon opened : the Dutch traders 
were scrupulously honest in their dealings, and purchased by 
weight, estabhshing it as an invariable table of avoirdupois^ 

^"fhat the hand of a Dutchman weighed one pound, and his foot 
two pounds. It is true, the simple Indians were often puzzled 

^ by the great disproportion between bulk and weight, for let 
them place a bundle of furs, never so large, in one scale, and a 



6^ A HISTORY OF NEW- TORE. 

Dutchman put his hand or foot in the other, the bundle was 
sure to kick the beam — never was a package of furs known to 
weigh more than two pounds in the market of Communipaw ! 
K This is a singular fact — but I have it direct from my great- 
great-grandfather, who had risen to considerable importance 
in the colony, being promoted to the office of weigh-master, on 
account of the uncommon heaviness of his foot. 

The Dutch possessions in this part of the globe began now to 
assume a very thriving appearance, and were comprehended 
under the general title of Nieuw Nederlandts, on account, as 
the sage Vander Donck observes, of their great resemblance to 
the Dutch Netherlands— which indeed was truly remarkable, 
excepting that the former were rugged and mountainous, and 
the latter level and marshy. About this time the tranquillity 
of the Dutch colonists was doomed to suffer a temporary in- 
terruption. In 1614, Captain Sir Samuel Argal, sailing under a 
conunission from Dale, governor of Virginia, visited the Dutch 
settlements on Hudson River, and demanded their submission 
to the English crown and Virginian dominion. To this arro- 
gant demand, as they were in no condition to resist it, they 
submitted for the time like discreet and reasonable men. 

It does not appear that the valiant Argal molested the settle- 
ment of Communipaw ; on the contrary, I am told that when 
his vessel first hove in sight, the worthy bui-ghers were seized 
with such a panic, that they fell to smoking their pipes with 
astonishing vehemence ; insomuch that they quickly raised a 
cloud, which, combining with the surrounding woods and 
marshes, completely enveloped and concealed their beloved 
village, and overhung the fair regions of Pavonia ; — so that the 
terrible Captain Argal passed on, totally unsuspicious that a 
sturdy little Dutch settlement lay snugly couched in the mud, 
imder cover of aU this pestilent vapour. In conunemoration 
of this fortunate escape, the worthy inhabitants have continued 
to smoke, almost without intermission, unto this very day; 
which is said to be the cause of the remarkable fog that often 
hangs over Communipaw of a clear afternoon. 

ITpon the departure of the enemy, our magnanimous ances- 
tors took fuU six months to recover their wind, having been 
exceedingly discomposed by the consternation and hurry ot 
affairs. They then called a council of safety to smoke over 
the state of the province. After six months more of mature 
deliberation, during which nearly five hundred words were 
spoken, and almost as much tobacco was smoked as would 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TOBK. 69 

have served a certain modem general through a whole winter's 
campaign of hard drinking, it was determined to fit out an 
armament of canoes, and despatch them on a voyage of dis- 
covery; to search if, perad venture, some more sure and for- 
midable position might not be found, where the colony would 
be less subject to vexatious visitations. 

This perilous enterprise was intrusted to the superintendence 
of Mynheers Oloffe Van Kortlandt, Abraham Ha^rdenbroeck, 
Jacobus Van Zandt, and Winant Ten Broeck — f ouj- indubitably 
great men, but of whose history, although I have raade diligent 
inquiry, I can learn but little, previous- to their leaving Hol- 
land. Nor need this occasion much surprise ; for adventurers, 
like prophets, though they make gi'eat noise abroad, have sel- 
dom much celebrity in their own countries ; but this much is 
certain, that the overflowings and offscourings of a country are 
invariably composed of the richest parts of the soil. And here 
I cannot help remarking how convenient it would be to many 
of our great men and great families of doubtful origin, could 
they have the privilege of the heroes of yore, who, whenever 
their origin was involved in obscurity, modestly announced 
themselves descended from a god — and who never visited a 
foreign country but what they told some cock-and-bull stories 
about their being kings and princes at home. This venal tres- 
pass on the truth, though it has occasionally been played off 
by some pseudo marquis, baronet, and other illustrious for- 
eigner, in our land of good-natured credulity, has been com- 
pletely discountenanced in this sceptical matter-of-fact age— 
and I even question whether any tender virgin, who was acci- 
dentally and unaccountably enriched with a bantling, would 
save her character at parlour firesides and evening tea-parties 
by ascribing the phenomenon to a swan, a shower of gold, or a 
river-god. 

Thus being denied the benefit of mythology and classic fable, 
I should have been completely at a loss as to the early biography 
of my heroes, had not a gleam of light been thrown upon their 
origin from their names. 

By this simple means, have I been enabled to gather some 
particulars concerning the adventurers in question. Van Kort- 
landt, for instance, was one of those peripatetic philosophers 
who tax Providence for a livelihood, and, like Diogenes, enjoy 
a free and unencumbered estate in sunshine. He was usually 
arrayed in garments suitable to his fortune, being curiously 
fringed and f angled by the hand of time ; and was helmeted 



70 ^ HISTORY OF NET-TORK. 

with an old fragment of a hat, which had acquired the shape 
of a sugar-loaf ; and so far did he carry his contempt for the 
adventitious distinction of dress, that it is said the remnant of 
a shirt, which covered his back, and dangled Hke a pocket- 
handkerchief out of a hole in his breeches, was never washed 
except by the bountiful showers of heaven. In this garb was 
he usually to be seen, sunning himseh at noon-day, with a herd 
of philosophers of the same sect, on the side of the great canal 
of Amsterdam. Like your nobihty of Europe, he took his 
name of Kortlandt (or lackland) from his landed estate, which 
lay somewhere in terra incognita. 

Of the next of our worthies, might I have had the benefit oi 
mythological assistance, the want of which I have just lament- 
ed, I should have made honourable mention, as boasting equally 
illustrious pedigree with the proudest hero of antiquity. His 
name of Van Zaiidt, which, being freely translated, signifies, 
from the dirt, meaning, beyond a doubt, that, hke Triptole- 
mus, Themis, the Cyclops and the Titans, he sprang from dame 
Terra, or the earth ! This supposition is strongly corroborated 
by his size, for it is well known that all the progeny of mother 
earth were of a gigantic stature ; and Van Zandt, we are told, 
was a tall, raw-boned man, above six feet high — with an aston- 
ishing hard head. Nor is this origin of the illustrious Van 
Zandt a whit more improbable or repugnant to belief than 
what is related and universally admitted of certain of our 
greatest, or rather richest men ; who, we are told with the ut- 
most gravity, did originally spring from a dunghUl ! 

Of the third hero, but a faint description has reached to this 
time, which mentions that he was a sturdy, obstinate, burly, 
bustling little man : and from being usually equipped with an 
old pair of buckskins, was familiarly dubbed Harden Broeck, 
or Tough Breeches. 

Ten 'Broeck completed this junto of adventurers. It is a 
cingular, but ludicrous fact, which, were I not scrupulous in 
recording the whole truth, I should almost be tempted to pass 
over in silence, as incompatible with the gravity and dignity 
of history, that this worthy gentleman should hkewise have 
been nicknamed from the most wliimsical part of his dress. In 
fact, the small-clothes seems to have been a very important 
garment in the eyes of our venerated ancestors, owing in all 
probability to its resJly being the largest article of raiment 
among them. The name of Ten Broeck, or Tin Broeck, is 
indifferently translated into Ten Breeches and Tin Breeches— 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 71 

the High Dutch commentators incline to the former opinion ; 
and ascribe it to his being the first who introduced into the 
settlement the ancient Dutch fashion of wearing ten pair of 
breeches. But the most elegant and ingenious writers on the 
subject declare in favour of Tin, or rather Thin Breeches; 
from whence they infer, that he was a poor, but merry rogue, 
whose galligaskins were none of the soundest, and who was 
the identical author of that truly philosophical stanza: 

" Then why should we quarrel for riches, 
Or any such glittering toys ? 
A light heart and thin pair of breeches. 
Will go through the world, my brave boys!" 

Such was the gallant junto chosen to conduct this voyage 
into unknown realms ; and the whole was put under the super- 
intending care and direction of OlofCe Van Kortlandt, who was 
held in great reverence among the sages of Communipaw, for 
the variety and darkness of his knowledge. Having, as I 
before observed, passed a great part of his life in the open air, 
among the peripatetic philosophers of Amsterdam, he had 
become amazingly well acquainted with the aspect of the 
heavens, and could as accurately determine when a storm was 
brewing, or a squall rising, as a dutiful husband can foresee, 
from the brow of his spouse, when a tempest is gathering 
about his ears. He was moreover a great seer of ghosts and 
goblins, and a firm believer in omens; but what especially 
recommended him to public confidence was his marvellous 
talent at dreaming, for there never was anything of conse- 
quence happened at Communipaw but what he declared he 
had previously dreamt it ; being one of those infallible prophets 
who always predict events after they have come to pass. 

This supernatural gift was as higlily valued among the 
burghers of Pavonia, as it was among the enlightened nations 
of antiquity. The wise Ulysses was more indebted to his 
sleeping than his waking moments for all his subtle achieve- 
ments, and seldom undertook any great exploit without first 
soundly sleeping upon it ; and the same may truly be said of 
the good Van Kortlandt, who was thence aptly denomiaated, 
Oloffe the Dreamer, 

This cautious commander, having chosen the crews that 
should accompany him in the proposed expedition, exhorted 
them to repair to their homes, take a good night's rest, settle 
all family affairs, and make their wills, before departing on 



72 -4. HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 

this voyage into unknown realms. And indeed this last was 
a precaution always taken by our forefathers, even in after 
times, when they became more adventurous, and voyaged to 
Haverstraw, or Kaatskill, or Groodt Esopus, or any other far 
country that lay beyond the great waters of the Tappaan Zee. 



CHAPTER IV. 



HOW THE HEROES OF COMMUNIPAW VOYAGED TO HELL-GATE, 
AND HOW THEY WERE RECEIVED THERE. 

And now the rosy blush of morn began to mantle in the 
east, and soon the rising sun, emerging from amidst golden 
and purple clouds, shed his blithesome rays on the tin weather- 
cocks of Communipaw. It was that delicious season of the 
year, when nature, breaking from the chilling thraldom of old 
winter, like a blooming damsel from the tyranny of a sordid 
old father, threw herself, blushing with ten thousand charms, 
into the arms of youthful spring. Every tufted copse and 
blooming grove resounded with the notes of hymeneal love. 
The very insects, as they sipped the dew that gemmed the 
tender grass of the meadows, joined in the joyous epithala- 
mimn— the virgin bud timidly put forth its blushes, "the 
voice of the turtle was hoard in the land," and the heart of 
man dissolved away in tenderness. Oh! sweet Theocritus! 
had I thine oaten reed, wherewith thou erst did charm the 
gay Sicilian plains. — Or, oh! gentle Bion! thy pastoral pipe, 
wherein the happy swains of the Lesbian isle so much de- 
Hghted, then might I attempt to sing, in soft Bucolic or negli- 
gent Idyllium, the rural beauties of the scene — but having 
nothing, save tliis jaded goose-quill, wherewith to wing my 
Hight, I must fain resign all poetic disportings of the fancy, 
and pursue my narrative in humble prose ; comforting myself 
udtli the hope, that though it may not steal so sweetly upon 
the imagination of my reader, yet may it commend itself, with 
virgin modesty, to his better judgment, clothed in the chaste 
and simple garb of truth. 

No sooner did the first rays of cheerful Phoebus dart into the 
windows of Communipav/, than the httle settlement vras 2M in 
motion. Forth issued from his castle the sage Van Kortiandt, 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 73 

and seizing a conch-shell, blew a far-resounding blast, that 
soon summoned all his lusty followers. Then did they trudge 
resolutely down to the water-side, escorted by a multitude of 
relatives and friends, who all went down, as the common 
phrase expresses it, "to see them off." And this shows the 
antiquity of those long family processions, often seen in our 
city, composed of all ages, sizes, and sexes, laden with bundles, 
and bandboxes, escorting some bevy of country cousins about 
to depart for home in a market-boat. 

The good Oloffe bestowed his forces in a squadron of three 
canoes, and hoisted his flag on board a little round Dutch boat, 
shaped not unlike a tub, which had formerly been the jolly- 
boat of the Goede Vrouw. And now all being embarked, they 
bade farewell to the gazing throng upon the beach, who con- 
tinued shouting after them, even when out of hearing, wishing 
them a happy voyage, advising them to take good care of 
themselves, and not to get drowned — with an abundance other 
of those sage and invaluable cautions, generally given by 
landsmen to such as go down to the sea in ships, and adven- 
ture upon the deep waters. In the meanwhile, the voyagers 
cheerily urged their course across the crystal bosom of the 
bay, and soon left behind them the green shores of ancient 
Pavonia. 

And first they touched at two small islands which lie nearly 
opposite Communipaw, and which are said to have been 
brought into existence about the time of the great irruption of 
the Hudson, when it broke through the Highlands, and made 
its way to the ocean.* For in this tremendous uproar of the 
waters, we are told that many huge fragments of rock and 
land were rent from the mountains and swept down by this 
runaway river for sixty or seventy miles ; where some of them 
ran aground on the shoals just opposite Communipaw, and 
formed the identical islands in question, while others drifted 
out to sea and were never heard of more. A sufficient proof 



* It is a matter long since established by certain of our philosophers, that is 
to say, having been often advanced, and never contradicted, it has grown to be 
pretty nigh equal to a settled fact, that the Hudson was originally a lake, dammed 
up by the mountains of tlie Highlands. In process of time, however, becoming 
very mighty and obstreperous, and the mountains waxing pursy, dropsical, and 
weak in the back, by reason of their extreme old age, it suddenly rose upon them, 
and after a violent struggle effected its escape. This is said to have come to pass 
in very remote time; probably before that, rivers had lost the art of running up 
hill. The fove>roing is a theory in which I do not pretend to be skilled, notwith- 
standing that 1 do fully give it my belief. 



74 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

of the fact is, that the rock which forms the bases of these 
islands is exactly similar to that of the Highlands, and, more- 
over, one of our philosophers, who has diligently compared the 
agreement of their respective surfaces, has even gone so far as 
to assure me, in confidence, that Gibbet Island was originally 
nothing more nor less than a wart on Anthony's Nose.* 

Leaving these wonderful httle isles, they next coasted by 
Governor's Island, since terrible from its frowning fortress and 
grinning batteries. They would by no means, however, land 
upon this island, since they doubted much it might be the 
abode of demons and spirits, which in those days did greatly 
abound throughout this savage and pagan country. 

Just at this time a shoal of joUy porpoises came rolling and 
tumbling by, turning up their sleek sides to the sun, and spout- 
ing up the briny element in sparkling showers. No sooner did 
the sage OlofEe mark this, than he was greatly rejoiced. 
" This," exclaimed he, " if I mistake not, augurs well — the por- 
poise is a fat, well-conditioned fish — a burgomaster among 
fishes — his looks betoken ease, plenty, and prosperity — I 
greatly admire this round, fat fish, and doubt not but this 
is a happy omen of the success of our undertaking. " So say- 
ing, he directed his squadron to steer in the track of these 
alderman fishes. 

Turning, therefore, directly to the left, they swept up the 
strait vulgarly called the East River. And here the rapid 
tide which courses through this strait, seizing on the gallant 
tub in which Commodore Van Kortlandt had embarked, hur- 
ried it forward with a velocity unparalleled in a Dutch boat, 
navigated by Dutchmen ; insomuch that the good commodore, 
who had all his life long been accustomed only to the drowsy 
navigation of canals, was more than ever convinced that they 
were in the hands of some supernatural power, and that the 
jolly porpoises Avere towing them to some fair haven that was 
to fulfil all their wishes and expectations. 

Thus borne away by the resistless current, they doubled that 
boisterous point of land since called Corlear's Hook,t and leav- 
ing to the right the rich winding cove of the Wallabout, they 
drifted into a magnificent expanse of water, surrounded by 
pleasant shores, whose verdure was exceedingly refreshing to 
the eye. While the voyagers were looking around them, on 



* A promontory in the Hi^lilands. 

t Properly spelt /loecfc, (i. e., a point of land.) 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 75 

what they conceived to be a serene and sunny lake, they 
beheld at a distance a crew of painted savages, busily em- 
ployed in fishing, who seemed more like the genii of this 
romantic region — their slender canoe lightly balanced like a 
feather on the undula*tmg surface of the bay. 

At sight of these, the hearts of the heroes of Communipaw 
were not a little troubled. But as good fortune would have it, 
at the bow of the commodore's boat was stationed a very 
valiant man, named Hendrick Kip, (which being interpreted, 
means chicken, a name given him in token of his courage.) No 
sooner did he behold these varlet heathens than he trembled 
with excessive valour, and although a good half mile distant, 
he seized a musquetoon that lay at hand, and turning away 
his head, fired it most intrepidly in the face of the blessed sun. 
The blundering weapon recoiled and gave the valiant Kip an 
ignominious kick, that laid hmi prostrate with uphfted heels in 
the bottom of the boat. But such was the effect of this tre- 
mendous fire, that the wild men of the woods, struck with con- 
sternation, seized hastily upon their paddles, and shot away 
into one of the deep inlets of the Long Island shore. 

This signal victory gave new spirits to the hardy voyagers, 
and in honour of the achievement they gave the name of the 
valiant Kip to the surrounding bay, and it has continued to be 
called Kip's Bay from that time to the present. The heart of 
the good Van Kortlandt— who, having no land of his own, was 
a great admirer of other people's — expanded at the sumptuous 
prospect of rich, misettled country around him, and falhng 
into a delicious reverie, he straightway began to riot in the 
possession of vast meadows of salt marsh and interminable 
patches of cabbages. From this delectable vision he w^as all at 
once awakened by the sudden turning of the tide, which would 
soon have hurried him from this land of promise, had not the 
discreet navigator given signal to steer for shore ; where they 
accordingly landed hard by the rocky heights of Bellevue— 
that happy retreat, where our jolly aldermen eat for the good 
of the city, and fatten the turtle that are sacrificed on civic 
solemnities. 

Here, seated on the greensward, by the side of a smaU stream 
that ran sparkling among the grass, they refreshed themselves 
after the toils of the seas, by feasting lustily on the ample 
stores which they had provided for this perilous voyage. 
Thus having well fortified their deliberative powers, they feU 
into an earnest consultation, what was farther to be done. 



76 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

This was the first council dinner ever eaten at Bellow-: lo by 
Christian burghers, and here, as tradition relates, did oiiginate 
the great family ieud between the Hardenbroecks and the Ten- 
broecks, which alterwards had a singular influence on the 
building of the city. The sturdy Hardenbroeck, whose eyes 
had been wondrously delighted with the salt marshes that 
spread their reeking bosoms along the coast, at the bottom of 
Kip's Bay, counselled by aU means to return thither, and found 
the intended city. This was strenuously opposed by the un- 
bending Ten Broeck, and many testy arguments passed be- 
tween them. The particulars of this controversy have not 
reached us, which is ever to be lamented ; this much is certain, 
that the sage Oloffe put an end to the dispute, by determining 
to explore still farther in the route which the mysterious por- 
poises had so clearly pointed out— whereupon the sturdy Tough 
Breeches abandoned the expedition, took possession of a neigh- 
bouring hill, and in a fit of great wrath peopled all that tract of 
country, which has continued to be inhabited by the Harden- 
broecks unto this very day. 

By this time the jolly Phoebus, like some wanton urchin 
sporting on the side of a green hill, began to roll down the 
declivity of the heavens ; and now, the tide having once more 
turned in their favour, the resolute Pavonians again committed 
themselves to its discretion, and coasting along the western 
shores, were borne towards the straits of Blackwell's Island. 

And here the capricious wanderings of the current occasioned 
not a little marvel and perplexity to these illustrious mariners. 
Now would they be caught by the wanton eddies, and, sweep- 
ing round a jutting point, would wind deep into some romantic 
httle cove, that indented the fair island of Manna-hata; now 
were they hurried narrowly by the very basis of impending 
rocks, mantled with the flaunting grape-vine, and crowned 
with groves that threw a broad shade on the waves beneath ; 
and anon they were borne away into the mid-channel, and 
wafted along with a rapidity that very much discomposed the 
sage Van Kortlandt, who, as he saw the land swiftly receding 
on either side, began exceedingly to doubt that terra firma 
was giving them the slip. 

Wherever the voyagers turned their eyes, a new creation 
seemed to bloom around. No signs of human thrift appeared 
to check the delicious wildness of natvire, who here revelled in 
aU her luxuriant variety. Those hills, now bristled, like the 
fretful porcupine, with rows of poplars, (vain upstart plants! 



A HISTORY OF NEW- TORE. 77 

minions of wealth and fashion !) were then adorned with the 
vigorous natives of the soil; the lordly oak, the generous 
chestnut, the graceful elm— while here and there the tulij)-tree 
reared its majestic head, the giant of the forest Where now 
are seen the gay retreats of luxury — ^villas half buried in twi 
light bowers, whence the amorous flute oft breathes the sigliings 
of some citj swain— there the fish-hawk built his solitary nest, 
on some dry tree that overlooked his watery domain. The 
tunid deer fed undisturbed along those shores now hallowed by 
the lovers' moonhght walk, and printed by the slender foot of 
beauty; and a savage solitude extended over those happy 
regions where now are reared the stately towers of the Jonese ■, 
the Schermerhornes, and the Ehinelanders. 

Thus gliding in silent wonder through these new and unknown 
scenes, the gaUant squadron of Pavonia ^wept by the foot of a 
promontory that strutted forth boldly into the waves, and 
seemed to frown upon them as they brawled against its base. 
This is the bluff weU known to modern mariners by the name 
of Grade's point, from the fair castle wMch, like an elephant, 
it carries upon its back. And here broke upon their view a 
wild and varied prospect, where land and water were beaute- 
ously intermingled, as though they had combined to heighten 
and set off each other's charms. To their right lay the sedgy 
point of Blackwell's Island, drest in the fresh garniture of living 
green— beyond it stretched the pleasant coast of Sundswick, 
and the small harbour well known by the name of Hallet's 
Cove — a place infamous in latter days, by reason of its being 
the haunt of pirates who infest these seas, robbing orchards 
and watermelon patches, and insulting gentlemen navigators 
when voyaging in their pleasure-boats. To the left a deep bay, 
or rather creek, gracefully receded between shores fringed with 
forests, and forming a kind of vista, through which were be- 
held the sylvan regions of Haerlem, Morrisania, and East 
Chester. Here the eye reposed with delight on a richly- wooded 
country, diversified by tufted knolls, shadowy intervals, and 
waving lines of upland swelling above each other ; while over 
the whole the purple mists of spring diffused a hue of soft 
voluptuousness. 

Just before them the grand course of the stream, making a 
sudden bend, wound among embowered promontories and shores 
of emerald verdure, that seemed to melt into the wave. A 
character of gentleness and mild fertflity prevailed around. 
The sun had just descended, and the thin haze of twihght, like 



78 A II f STORY OF NEW- YORK. 

a transparent veil drawn over the bosom of virgin beauty, 
heightened the charms which it half concealed. 

Ah ! witching scenes of foul delusion ! Ah ! hapless voyagers, 
gazing with simple wonder on these Circean shores! Such, 
•alas ! are they, poor easy souls, who listen to the seductions of 
a wicked world — treacherous are its smiles ! fatal its caresses ! 
He who yields to its enticements launches upon a whelming 
tide, and trusts his feeble bark among the dimpling eddies of a 
whirlpool ! And thus it fared with the worthies of Pavonia, 
who, little mistrusting the guileful scene before them, drifted 
quietly on, until they were aroused by an uncoromon tossing 
and agitation of their vessels. For now the late dimpljng cur- 
rent began to brawl around them, and the waves to boil and 
foam with horrific fury. Awakened as if from a dream, the 
astonished Oloffe bawled aloud to put about, but his words 
were lost amid the roaring of the waters. And now ensued a 
scene of direful consternation— at one time they were borne 
with dreadful velocity among tumultuous breakers ; at another, 
hurried down boisterous rapids. Now they were nearly dashed 
upon the Hen and Chickens; (infamous rocks !--more voracious 
than Scylla and her whelps;) and anon they seemed sinking 
into yawning gulfs, that threatened to entomb them beneath 
the waves. All the elements combined to produce a hideous 
confusion. The waters raged — the winds howled — and as they 
were hurried along, several of the astonished mariners beheld 
the rocks and trees of the neighbouring shores driving through 
tho air ! 

At length the mighty tub of Com-modore Van Kortlandt was 
drawn into the vortex of that tremendous whirlpool called 
the Pot, where it was whirled aoout in giddy mazes, until the 
senses of the good commander and his crew were overpowered 
by the horror of the scene and the strangeness of the revolu- 
tion. 

How the gallant squadron of Pavonia was snatched from the 
jaws of this modern Chary bdis, has never been truly made 
known, for so many survived to tell the tale, and, what is still 
more wonderful, told it in so many different ways, that there 
has ever prevailed a great variety of opinions on the subject. 

As to the commodore and his crew, when they came to their 
senses they found themselves stranded on the Long Island 
shore. The worthy commodore, indeed, used to relate many 
and wonderful stories of his adventures in this time of peril ; 
how that he saw spectres flying in the air, and heard the yell' 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 79 

m^ of hobgoblins, and put his hand into the Pot when they 
were whirled around 9,nd found the water scalding hot, and 
beheld several uncouth-looking beings seated on rocks and 
skimming it with huge ladles — but particularly he declared, 
with great exultation, that he saw the losel porpoises, which 
had betrayed them into this peril, some broihng on the Gridiron 
and others hissing in the Frying-pan ! 

These, however, were considered by many as mere phantasies 
of the commodore's imagination, while he lay in a trance; 
especially as he was known to be given to dreaming; arid the 
truth of them has never been clearly ascertained. It is certain, 
however, that to the accounts of Oloffe and his followers may 
be traced the various tradimons handed down of this marvellous 
strait — as how the devil has been seen there, sitting astride of 
the Hog's Back and playing on the fiddle— how he broils fish 
there before a storm; and many other stories, in which we 
must be cautious of putting too much faith. In consequence of 
all these terrific circumstances, the Pavonian commander gave 
this pass the name of Helle-gat, or as it has been interpreted, 
Hell- Gate, "^ which it continues to bear at the present day. 



CHAPTER Y. 



HOW THE HEROES OF COMMUNn»AW RETURNED SOMEWHAT WISER 
THAN THEY WENT — AND HOW THE SAGE OLOFFE DREAMED A 
DREAM — AND THE DREAM THAT HE DREAMED. 

The darkness of night had closed upon this disastrous day, 
and a doleful night was it to the shipwrecked Pavonians, 
whose ears were incessantly assailed with the raging of the 

*This is a narrow strait in the Sound, afc the distance of six miles above New- 
York. It is dangerous to shipping, unless under the care of skilful pilots, by reason 
of numerous rocks, shelves, and whirlpools. These have received sundry appella- 
tions, such as the Gridiron, Frying-pan, Hog's Back, Pot, &c., and are very violent 
and turbulent at certain times of the tide. Certain wise men, who instruct these 
modern days, have softened the above characteristic name into Hurl-gate, which 
means nothing. I leave them to give their own etymology. The name as given by 
our author is supported by the map in Vander Donck"s history, published in 1656— 
byOgiivie's history of America, 1671— as also by a journal still extant, written in 
tlie 16th century, and to be found in Hazard's State Papers. And an old MS., 
written in French, speaking of various alterations in names about this city, oIjk 
serves, " De Helle-gat trou d'Enfer, ilsont fait Hell-Gate, Porte d'Enfer." 



80 ^ BISTORT OF MEW- YORK 

elements, and the howling of the hobgoblins that infested this 
perfidious strait. But when the morning dawned, the horrors 
of the preceding evening had passed away ; rapids, breakers, 
and whirlpools had disappeared ; the stream again ran smooth 
and dimpling, and having changed its tide, rolled gently back, 
towards the quarter where lay their much-regretted home. 

The woe-begone heroes of Communipaw eyed each other with 
rueful countenances ; their squadron had been totally dispersed 
by the late disaster. Some were cast upon the western shore, 
where, headed by one Ruleff Hopper, they took possession of 
all the country lying about the six -mile stone ; which is held 
by the Hoppers at this present writing. 

The Waldrons were driven by stress of weather to a distant 
coast, where, having with them a jug of genuine Hollands, 
they were enabled to conciliate the savages, setting up a kind 
of tavern ; from whence, it is said, did spring the fair town ot 
Haerlem, in which their descendants have ever since con- 
tinued to be reputable publicans. As to the Suydams, they 
were thrown upon the Long Island coast, and may still be 
found in those parts. But the most singular luck attended the 
great Ten Broeck, who, falhng overboard, was miraculously 
preserved from sinking by the multitude of his nether gar- 
ments. Thus buoyed up, he floated on the waves like a mer- 
man, or like the cork float of an angler, until he landed safely 
on a 1 ock, where he was found the next morning, busily dry- 
ing his many breeches in the sunshine. 

I forbear to treat of the long consultation of our adventurers 
— how they determined that it would not do to found a city in 
this diabolical neighbourhood— and how at length, with fear 
and trembling, they ventured once more upon the briny ele- 
ment, and steered their course back for Comnxanipaw. Suffice 
it. in simple brevity, to say, that after toiling back through the 
scenes of their yesterday's voyage, they at length opened the 
aouthern point of Manna-hata, and gained a distant view of 
fcheir beloved Communipaw. 

And here they were opposed by an obstinate eddy, that re- 
sisted all the efforts of the exhausted mariners. Weary and 
dispirited, they could no longer make head against the power 
of the tide, or rather, as some will have it, of old Neptune, 
who, anxious to guide them to a spot whereon should be 
founded his stronghold in this western world, sent half a score 
of potent billows, that rolled the tub of Commodore \^an Korfc 
landt high and dry on the shores of Manna-hata. 



Jt niSTORT OF NEW-YORK. 81 

Having thus in a manner been guided by supernatural 
power to this dehghtful island, their first care was to light a 
fire at the foot of a large tree, that stood upon the point at 
present called the Battery. Then gathering together great 
store of oysters which abounded on the shore, and emptying 
the contents of their wallets, they prepared and made a sump- 
tuous council repast. The worthy Van Kortlandt was observed 
to be particularly zealous in his devotions to the trencher ; for 
having the cares of the expedition especially committed to his 
care, he deemed it incumbent on him to eat profoundly for the 
public good. In proportion as he filled himself to the very 
brim with the dainty viands before him, did the heart of this 
excellent burgher rise up towards his throat, until he seemed 
crammed and almost choked with good eating and good 
nature. And at such times it is, when a man's heart is in his 
throat, that he may more truly be said to speak from it, and 
his speeches abound with kindness and good-fellowship. Thus 
the worthy Oloffe having swallowed the last possible morsel, 
and washed it down with a fervent potation, felt his heart 
yearning, and his whole frame in a manner dilating ^^nth. un- 
bounded benevolence. Every thing around him seemed excel- 
lent and delightful ; and, laying his hands on each side of his 
capacious periphery, and rolling his half -closed eyes around on 
the beautiful diversity of land and water before him, he ex- 
claimed, in a fat half -smothered voice, "What a charming 
prospect !" The words died away in his throat — he seemed to 
ponder on the fair scene for a moment — his eyelids heavily 
elosed over their orbs— his head drooped upon his bosom — he 
slowly sunk upon the green turf, and a deep sleep stole gradu- 
ally upon him. 

And the sage Oloffe dreamed a dream— and lo, the good St. 
Nicholas came riding over the tops of the trees, in that self- 
same wagon wherein he brings his yearly presents to children, 
and he came and descended hard by where the heroes of Com- 
munipaw had made their late repast. And the shrewd Van 
Kortlandt knew him by Ms broad hat, his long pipe, and the 
resemblance which he bore to the figure on the bow of the 
Goede Vrouw. And he lit his pipe by the fire, and sat himself 
down and smoked ; and as he smoked, the smoke from liis pipe 
ascended into the air, and spread like a cloud overhead. And 
Oloffe bethought him, and he hastened and climbed up to the 
top of one of the tallest trees, and saw that the smoke spread 
over a great extent of country— and as he considered it more 



82 A HISTOBT OF NEW- TORE. 

attentively, he fancied that the great volume of smoke as- 
sumed a vai'iety of marvellous forms, where in dim obscurity 
he saw shadowed out palaces and domes and lofty spires, all of 
wliich lasted but a moment, and then faded away, until the 
whole rolled off, and nothing but the green woods were left. 
And when St. Nicholas had smoked his pipe, he twisted it in 
his hat-band, and laying his finger beside his nose, gave the 
astonished Van Kortlandt a very significant wink, then mount- 
ing his wagon, he retm^ned over the tree-tops and disappeared. 

And Van Kortlandt awoke from his sleep greatly instructed, 
and he aroused his companions, and related to them his dream, 
and interpreted it, that it was the will of St. Nicholas that they 
should settle down and build the city here. And that the 
smoke of the pipe was a type how vast should be the extent of 
the city ; inasmuch as the volumes of its smoke should spread 
over a wide extent of country. And they all, with one voice, 
assented to this interpretation, excepting Mynheer Ten Broeck, 
who declare<l the meaning to be that it should be a city wherein 
a little fire should occasion a great smoke, or in other words, a 
very vapouring httle city — both which interpretations have 
strangely come to pass ! 

The great object of their perilous expedition, therefore, being 
thus happily accomplished, the voyagers returned memly to 
Communipaw, where they were received with great rejoicings. 
And here calhng a general meeting of all the wise men and the 
dignitaries of Pavonia, they related the Tvhole history of their 
voyage, and of the dream of Oloffe Van Kortlandt. And the 
people lifted up their voices and blessed the good St. Nicholas, 
and from that time forth the sage Van Kortlandt was held 
moi-e in honour than ever, for his great talent at dreaming, 
and was pronounced a most useful citizen and a right good 
man — when he was asleep. 



CHAPTER VI. 



CONTArNTN'G AN ATTEMPT AT ETYMOLOGY— AND OF THE FOUND- 
ING OF THE GREAT CITY OP NEW- AMSTERDAM. 

The original name of the island wherein the squadron of 
Communipaw was thus propitiously thrown, is a matter of 
some dispute, and has already imdergone considerable vitiation 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 83 

^-a melancholy proof of the instability of all sublunary things, 
aad the vanity of all our hopes of lasting fame ! For who can 
expect his name will live to posterity, when even the names of 
m^hty islands are thus soon lost in contradiction and uncer- 
tainty? 

Ihe name most current at the present day, and which is 
likewise countenanced by the great historian Vander Donck, 
is Ma-NHATTan ; which is said to have originated in a custom 
among the squaws, in the early settlement, of wearing men's 
hats, as is still done among many tribes. " Hence," as we are 
told by an old governor who was somewhat of a wag, and 
flourished almost a century since, and had paid a visit to the 
wits of Philadelphia, " hence arose the appellation of man-hat- 
on, first given to the Indians, and afterwards to the island "—a 
stupid joke ! — but well enough for a governor. 

Among the more venerable sources of information on this 
subject, is that valuable history of the American possessions, 
written Dy Master Richard Blome in 1687, wnerein it is called 
Manhadaes and Manahanent ; nor must I forget the excellent 
httle book, full of precious matter, of that authentic historian, 
John Josselyn, Gent., who expressly calls it Manadaes. 

Another etymology still more ancient, and sanctioned by 
the countenance of our ever-to-be-lamented Dutch ancestors, is 
that found in certain letters still extant;* which passed be- 
tween the early governors and their neighbouring powers, 
wherein it is called indifferently Monhattoes— Munhatos, and 
Manhattoes, which are evidently unimportant variations of 
the same name; for our wise forefathers set little store by 
those niceties either in orthography or orthoepy which form 
the sole study and ambition of many learned men and women 
of this hypercritical age. This last name is said to be derived 
from the great Indian spirit Manetho, who was supposed to 
make this island his favourite abode, on account of its uncom- 
mon delights. For the Indian traditions affirm that the bay 
was once a translucid lake, filled with silver and golden fish, 
in the midst of which lay this beautiful island, covered with 
every variety of fruits and flowers ; but that the sudden irrup- 
tion of the Hudson laid waste these blissful scenes, and 
Manetho took his flight beyond the great waters of Ontario. 

These, however, are fabulous legends to which very cau- 
tious credence must be given; and although I am willing to 

* Vide Hazard's Col. State Papers. 



84 ^ BISTORT OF NEW- YORK 

adroit the last quoted orthography of the name, as'Very suii- 
able for prose, yet is there another one founded on still ma'e 
ancient and indisputable authority, which I particularly de- 
light in, seeing that it i* at once poetical, melodious, and signi- 
ficant — and this is recorded in the before-mentioned voyage oi 
the great Hudson, written by master Juet ; who clearly and 
correctly calls it' Manna-hata — that is to say, the islard of 
Manna, or in other words — "a land flowing with milk and 
honey," 

It having been solemnly resolved that the seat of empire 
should be transferred from the green shores of Pavonia to this 
delectable island, a vast multitude embarked, and migrated 
across the mouth of the Hudson, under the guidance of Oloffe 
the Dreamer, who was appointed protector or patron to the 
new settlement. 

And hear let me bear testimony to the matchless honesty 
and magnanimity of our worthy forefathers, who purchased 
the soil of the native Indians before erecting a single roof — a 
circumstance singular and almost incredible in the annals of 
discovery and colonization. 

The first settlement was made on the south-west point of the 
island, on the very spot where the good St. Nicholas had ap- 
peared in the dream. Here they built a mighty and impreg- 
nable fort and trading house, called Fort Amsterdam, wliich 
stood on that eminence at present occupied by the custom- 
house, with the open space now called the Bowling-Green in 
front. 

Around this potent fortress was soon seen a numerous pro- 
geny of little Dutch houses, with tiled roofs, aU which seemed 
most lovingly to nestle under its walls, like a brood of half- 
fledged chickens sheltered under the wings of the mother hen. 
The whole was surrounded by an inclosure of strong palisa- 
does, to guard against any sudden irruption of the savages, 
who wandered in hordes about the swamps and forests that 
extended over those tracts of country at present called Broad- 
way, Wall-street, Wilham-street, and Pearl-street. 

No sooner was the colony once planted, than it took root and 
throve amazingly ; for it would seem that this thrice-favoured 
island is like a munificent dunghill, where every foreign weed 
finds kindly nourishment, and soon shoots up and expands to 
greatness. 

And now the infant settlement having advanced in age and 
stature, it was thought high time it should receive an honest 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 85 

Christian name, and it was accordingly called New-Amster- 
DAI?. It is true, there were some advocates for the original 
Indian name, and many of the best writers of the province did 
long continue to call it by the title of " Manhattoes;" but this 
was discountenanced by the authorities, as being heathenish 
and savage. Besides, it was considered an excellent and praise- 
worthy measure to name it after a great city of the old world ; 
as by that means it was induced to emulate the greatness and 
renown of its namesake — in the manner that little snivelling 
urchins are called after great statesmen, saints, and worthies 
and renowned generals of yore, upon which they all industri- 
ously copy their examples, and come to be very mighty men in 
their day and generation. 

The thriving state of the settlement, and the rapid increase 
of houses, graduaD^ awakened the good Oloffe from a deep 
lethargy, into which he had fallen after the building of the 
fort. He now began to think it was time some plan should 
be devised on which the increasing town should be built. 
Summoning, therefore, his counsellors and coadjutors together, 
they took pipe in mouth, and forthwith sunk into a very sound 
deliberation on the subject. 

At the very outset of the business an unexpected difference 
of opinion arose, and I mention it with much sorrowing, as 
being the first altercation on record in the councils of New- 
Amsterdam. It was a breaking forth of the grudge and heart- 
burning that had existed between those two eoiinent burghers, 
Mynheers Tenbroeck and Hardenbroeck, ever since their un- 
happy altercation on the coast of Bellevue. The great Harden- 
broeck had waxed very wealthy and powerful, from his 
domains, which embraced the whole chain of Apulean moun- 
tains that stretched along the gulf of Kip's Bay, and from 
part of which his descendants have been expelled in later ages 
by the powerful clans of the Joneses and the Schermerhornes. 

An ingenious plan for the city was offered by Mynheer Ten- 
broeck, who proposed that it should be cut up and intersected 
by canals, after the manner of the most admired cities in Hol- 
land. To this Mynheer Hardenbroeck was diametrically op- 
posed, suggesting in place thereof, that they should run out, 
docks and wharves, by means of piles driven into the bottom 
of the river, on wliich the town should be built. By these 
means, said he triumphantly, shall we rescue a considerable 
space of territory from these immense rivers, and build a city 
that shaU rival Amsterdam, Venice, or any amphibious city in 



36 A BISTORT OF NEW-YORK. 

Europe. To this proposition, Ten Broeck (or Ten Breeches) 
replied, with a look of as much scorn as he could possibly as- 
su^ie. He cast the utmost censure upon the plan of his antago* 
nist, as being preposterous, and against the very order of things, 
as he would leave to every true Hollander. " For what,'" said 
he, " is a town without canals? — it is a body without veins and 
arteries, and must perish for want of a free circulation of the 
vital fluid." Tough Breeches, on the contrary, retorted with 
a sarcasm upon his antagonist, who was somewhat of an arid, 
dry-boned habit; he remarked, that as to the circulation of 
the blood being necessary to existence, Mynheer Ten Breeches 
was a living contradiction to his own assertion ; for every body 
knew there had not a drop of blood circulated through his 
wind-dried carcass for good ten years, and yet there was not 
a greater busy-body in the whole colony. Personalities have 
seldom much effect in making converts in argument — nor 
have I ever seen a man convinced of error by being convicted 
of deformity. At least such was not the case at present. Ten 
Breeches was very acrimonious in reply, and Tough Breeches, 
who was a sturdy little man, and never gave up the last word, 
rejoined with increasing spirit — Ten Breeches had the advan- 
tage of the greatest volubility, but Tough Breeches had that 
invaluable coat of mail in argument called obstinacy— Ten 
Breeches had, therefore, the most mettle, but Tough Breeches 
the best bottom— so that though Ten Breeches made a dreadful 
clattering about his ears, and battered and belaboured him with 
hard words and sound arguments, yet Tough Breeches hung on 
most resolutely to the last. They parted, therefore, as is usual 
in all arguments where both parties are in the right, without 
coming to any conclusion— but they hated each other most 
heartily for ever after, and a similar breach with that between 
the houses of Capulet and Montague did ensue between the 
families of Ten Breeches and Tough Breeches. 

I would not fatigue my reader with these dull matters of 
fact, but that my duty as a faithful historian requires that I 
should be particular— and, in truth, as I am now treating of 
the critical period, when our city, like a young twig, first re- 
ceived the twists and turns that have since contributed to give 
it the present picturesque irregularity for which it is cele- 
brated, I cannot be too minute in detailing their first causes. 

After ths unhappy altercation J. have just mentioned. I do 
not find that any thing farther was said on the subject worthy 
of being recorded. The council, consisting of the largest and 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK, 87 

oldest heads in the community, met regularly once a week, to 
ponder on this momentous subject. But either they were de- 
terred by the war of words they had witnessed, or they were 
naturally averse to the exercise of the tongue, and the conse- 
quent exercise of the brains — certain it is, the most profound 
silence was maintained — the question as usual lay on the table 
— the members quietly smoked their pipes, making but few 
laws, without ever enforcing any, and in the meantime the 
affairs of the settlement went on— as it pleased God. 

As most of the council were but little skilled in the mystery 
of combining pot-hooks and hangers, they determined most 
judiciously not to puzzle either themselves or posterity with 
voluminous records. The secretary, however, kept the min- 
utes of the council with tolerable precision, in a large vellum 
folio, fastened with massy brass clasps; the journal of each 
meeting consisted but of two lines, stating in Dutch, that "the 
council sat this day, and smoked* twelve pipes, on the affairs of 
the colony." By which it appears that the first settlers did 
not regulate their time by hours, but pipes, in the same man- 
ner as they measure distances in Holland at this very time ; an 
admirably exact measurement, as a pipe in the mouth of a 
true-born Dutchman is never hable to those accidents and 
irregularities that are continually putting our clocks out of 
order. It is said, moreover, that a regular smoker was ap- 
pointed as council clock, whose duty was to sit at the elbow 
of the president and smoke incessantly : every puff marked a 
division of time as exactly as a second-band, and the knock- 
ing out of the ashes of his pipe was equivalent to striking the 
hour. 

In this manner did the profound coimcil of New-Amsterdam 
smoke, and doze, and ponder, from week to week, month to 
month, and year to year, in what manner they should con- 
struct their infant settlement— meanwhile, the town took care 
of itself, and like a sturdy brat which is suffered to run about 
wild, unshackled by clouts and bandages, and other abomina- 
tions by which your notable nurses and sage old women cripple 
and disfigure the children of men, increased so rapidly in 
strength and magnitude, that before the honest burgomasters 
had determined upon a plan, it was too late to put it in ex- 
ecution—whereupon they wisely abandoned the subject al- 
together. 



88 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 



CHAPTER VII. 

HOW THE CITY OF NEW- AMSTERDAM WAXED GREAT, UNDER THE 
PROTECTION OF OLOFFE THE DREAJMER. 

There is sometliing exceedingly delusive in thus looking 
bacli, through the long vista of departed years, and catcMng 
a glimpse of the fairy realms of antiquity that lie beyond. 
Like some goodly landscape melting into distance, they receive 
a thousand charms from their very obscurity, and the fancy 
dehghts to fill up their outlines with graces and excellencies 
of its own creation. Thus beam on my imagination those 
happier days of our city, when as yet New- Amsterdam was a 
mere pastoral town, shrouded in groves of sycamore and wil- 
lows, and surrounded by trackless forests and wide-spreading 
waters, that seemed to shut out aU the cares and vanities of a 
wicked world. 

In those days did this embryo city present the rare and noble 
spectacle of a community governed without laws; and thus 
being left to its own course, and the fostering care of Provi- 
dence, increased as rapidly as though it had been burthoned 
with a dozen panniers-full of those sage laws that are usually 
heaped on the backs of young cities— in order to make them 
grow. And in this particular I greatly admire the wisdom 
and sound knowledge of human nature, displayed by the sage 
Oloffe the Dreamer, and his fellow-legislators. For my part. 
I have not so bad an opinion of mankind as many of my 
brother philosophers. I do not think poor human nature so 
sorry a piece of workmanship as they would make it out to 
be ; and as far as I have observed, I am f lilly satisfied that 
man, if left to himself, would about as readily go right as 
wrong. It is only this eternally sounding in his ears that it 
is his duty to go right, that makes him go the very reverse. 
The noble independence of his nature revolts at this intolerable 
tyranny of law, and the perpetual interference of officious mo- 
rahty, which is ever besetting his path with finger-posts and 
directions to "keep to the right, as the law directs;" and 
lilvC a spirited urchin, he turns directly contrary, and gallops 
th]'ough mud and mire, over hedges and ditches, merely to 
show that he is a lad of spirit, and out of his leading-strings. 
And these opinions are amply substantiated by what I have 



A HISTORY OF NEW YORK. 89 

above said of our worthy ancestors; who never being be- 
preached and be-lectured, and guided and governed by stat- 
utes and laws and by-laws, as are their more enlightened 
descendants, did one and all demean themselves honestly and 
peaceably, out of pure ignorance, or in other words, because 
they knew no better. 

Nor must I omit to record one of the earhest measures of this 
infant settlement, inasmuch as it shows the piety of our fore- 
fathers, and that, hke good Christians, they were always ready 
to serve God, after they had first served themselves. Thus, 
having quietly settled themselves down, and provided for their 
own comfort, they bethought themselves of testifying their 
gratitude to the great and good St. Nicholas, for his protecting 
care in guiding them to this delectable abode. To this end they 
built a fair and goodly chapel within the fort, which they con- 
secrated to his name; whereupon he immediately took the 
town of New- Amsterdam under his peculiar patronage, and 
he has ever since been, and I devoutly hope will ever be, the 
tutelar saint of this excellent city. 

I am moreover told that there is a Httle legendary book, 
somewhere extant, written in Low Dutch, which says that the 
image of this renowned saint, which whilome graced the bow- 
sprit of the Goede Yrouw, was elevated in front of this chapel, 
in the very centre of what, in modern days, is called the Bowl- 
ing-Green. And the legend further treats of divers miracles 
wrought by the mighty pipe which the saint held in his mouth ; 
a whiff of which was a sovereign cure for an indigestion — an 
invaluable relic in this colony of brave trenchermen. As, how- 
ever, in spite of the most dihgent search, I cannot lay my 
hands upon this little book, I must confess that I entertain 
considerable doubt on the subject. 

Thus benignly fostered by the good St. Nicholas, the burgh- 
ers of New- Amsterdam beheld their settlement increase in 
magnitude and population, and soon become the metropolis of 
divers settlements, and an extensive territory. Already had 
the disastrous pride of colonies and dependencies, those banes 
of a sound-hearted empire, entered into their imaginations; and 
Fort Aurania on the Hudson, Fort Nassau on the Delaware, 
and Fort Goede Hoep on the Connecticut river, seemed to be 
the darling offspring of the venerable council.* Thus prosper- 



* The province about this time, extended on the north to Fort Aurania, or Orange, 
(now the city of Albany,) situated about 160 miles up the Hudson river. Indeed, 



90 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-TOBK. 

ously, to all appearance, did the province of New-Netherlands 
advance in power ; and the early history of its metropoUs pre- 
sents a fair page, unsullied by crime or calamity. 

Hordes of painted savages still lurked about the tangled for- 
ests and rich bottoms of the unsettled part of the island— the 
hunter pitched his rude bower of skins and bark beside the rills 
that ran through the cool and shady glens; while here and 
there might be seen, on some sunny knoll, a group of Indian 
wigwams, whose smoke rose above the neighbouring trees, and 
floated in the transparent atmosphere. By degrees, a mutual 
good- will had grown up between these wandering beings and 
the burghers of New- Amsterdam. Our benevolent forefathers 
endeavoured as much as possible to meliorate their situation, 
by giving them gin, rum, and glass beads, in exchange for 
their peltries; for it seems the kind-hearted Dutchmen had 
conceived a great friendship for their savage neighbours, on 
accoimt of their being pleasant men to trade with, and httle 
skilled in the art of making a bargain. 

Now and then a crew of these half-human sons of the forest 
would make their appearance in the streets of New- Amster- 
dam, fantastically painted and decorated with beads and flaunt- 
ing feathers, sauntering about with an air of listless indiffer- 
ence—sometimes in the market-place, instructing the little 
Dutch boys m the use of the bow and arrow — at other times, 
inflamed with liquor, swaggering and whooping and yelling 
about the town like so many fiends, to the great dismay of all 
the good wives, who would hurry their children into the house, 
fasten the doors, and throw water upon the enemy from the 
garret-windows. It is worthy of mention here, that our fore- 
fathers were very particular in holding up these wild men as 
excellent domestic examples — and for reasons that may be 
gathered from the history of master Ogilby, who tells us, that 
'' for the least offence the bridegroom soundly beats his wife 
and turns her out of doors, and marries another, insomuch 
that some of them have every year a new wife." Whether 



the province claimed quite to the river St. Lawrence; but this claim was not much 
insisted on at the time, as the country bej'ond Fort Aurania was a perfect wilder- 
ness. On the south, the province reached to Fort Nassau, on the South river, since 
called the Delaware ; and on the east, it extended to the Varsche ( or Fresh) river, 
now the Connecticut. On this last frontier was likewise erected a fort or trading 
house, much about the spot where at present is situated the pleasant town of Hart- 
ford. This was called Fort Goede Hoep, (or Good Hope,) and was intended as weH 
tor the purposes of trade, as of defence. 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 91 

this awful example had any influence or not, history does not 
mention ; but it is certain that our grandmothers were miracles 
of fidelity and obedience. 

True it is, that the good understanding between our ances- 
tors and their savage neighbours was liable to occasional inter- 
ruptions ; and I have heard my grandmother, who was a very 
wise old woman, and well versed in the history of these parts, 
tell a long story, of a winter's evening, about a battle between 
the New-Amsterdamers and the Indians, which was known by 
the name of the Peach Wai% and which took place near a peach 
orchard, in a dark glen, which for a long while went by the 
name of the Murderer's VaUey. 

The legend of this sylvan war was long current among the 
nurses, old wives, and other ancient chroniclers of the place ; 
but time and improvement have almost obhterated both the 
tradition and the scene of battle ; for what was once the blood- 
stained valley is now in the centre of this populous city, and 
known by the name of Dey-street . 

The accumulating wealth and consequence of New- Amster- 
dam and its dependencies at length awakened the tender solici- 
tude of the mother country; who, finding it a thriving and 
opulent colony, and that it promised to yield great profit, and 
no trouble, all at once became wonderfully anxious about its 
safety, and began to load it with tokens of regard, in the same 
manner that your knowing iDeople are sure to overwhehn rich 
relations with their affection and loving-kindness. 

The usual marks of protection shown by mother countries to 
wealthy colonies were forthwith manifested — the first care al- 
ways being to send rulers to the new settlement, with orders 
to squeeze as much revenue from it as it will yield. Accord- 
ingly, in the year of our Lord 16.29, Mynheer Wouter Van 
TwiLLER was appointed governor of the province of Nieuvv-- 
Nederlandts, under the commission and control of their Hirfi 
Mightinesses, the Lords States General of the United Nether- 
lands, and the privileged West India Company. 

This renowned old gentleman arrived at New- Amsterdam in 
the merry month of June, the sweetest month in all the year ; 
when Dan Apollo Beems to dance up the transparent firma- 
ment—when the robin, the thrush, and a thousand other Ts^n- 
ton songsters make the woods to resound with amorous dit- 
ties, and the luxurious little boblincon revels among the clover 
blossoms of the meadows— aU which happy coincidence per- 
suaded the old dames of New- Amsterdam, who were skilled iij 



92 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK, 

the art of foretelling events, that this was to be a happjr and 
prosperous administration. 

But as it would be derogatory to the consequence of the first 
Dutch governor of the great province of Nieuw-Nederlandts, 
to be thus scurvUy introduced at the end of the chapter, I will 
put an end to this second book of my history, that I may usher 
Mm in with more dignity in the beginning of my next. 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK 93 



BOOK III. 

IN WHICH IS RECORDED THE GOLDEN REIGN OF 
V/OUTER VAN T WILIER. 



CHAPTER I. 

OF THE RENOWNED WALTER VAN TWILLER — HIS UNPARALLELED 
VIRTUES — AND LIKEWISE HIS UNUTTERABLE WISDOM IN THE 
LAW-CASE OF WANDLE SCHOONHOVEN AND BARENT BLEECKER 
—AND THE GREAT ADMIRATION OF THE PUBLIC THEREAT. 

Grievous and very much to be commiserated is the task of 
the feehng historian who writes the history of his native land. 
If it fall to his lot to be the sad recorder of calamity or crime, 
the mournful page is watered with his tears — nor can he recall 
the most prosperous and blissful era, without a melancholy 
sigh at the reflection that it has passed away for ever ! I know 
not whether it be owing to an immoderate love for the sim- 
plicity of former tunes, or to that certain tenderness of heart 
incident to ah sentimental historians ; but I candidly confess 
that I cannot look back on the happier days of our city, which 
I now describe, without a sad dejection of the spirits. With 
a faltering hand do I withdraw the curtain of oblivion that 
veils the modest merit of our venerable ancestors, and as their 
figiu-es rise to my mental vision, humble myself before the 
mighty shades. 

Such are my feehng s when I revisit the family mansion of 
the Knickerbockers, and spend a lonely hour in the chamber 
where hang the portraits of my forefathers, shrouded in dust, 
like the forms they represent. With pious reverence do I gaze 
on the countenances of those renowned burghers, who have 
preceded mo in the steady march of existence— whose eober 
and temperate blood now meanders through my veins, flowing 
slower and slower in its feeble conduits, untfl its current shall 
soon be stopped for ever! 



94 ^ BISTORT OF NEW-YOBK. 

These, say I to myself, are but frail memorials of the mighty 
men who flourished in the days of the patriarchs ; but who, 
alas, have long since mouldered in that tomb towards which my 
steps are insensibly and irresistibly hastening ! As I pace the 
darkened chamber, and lose myself in melancholy musings, 
the shadowy images around me almost seem to steal once more 
into existence — their countenances to assume the animation of 
life— their eyes to pursue me in every movement! Carried 
away by the delusions of fancy, I almost imagine myself sur- 
rounded by the shades of the departed, and holding sweet con- 
verse with the worthies of antiquity ! Ah, hapless Diedrich ! 
born in a degenerate age, abandoned to the buffetings of for- 
tune—a stranger and a weary pilgrim in thy native land — blest 
with no weeping wife, nor family of nelpless children; but 
doomed to wander neglected through those crowded streets, 
and elbowed by foreign upstarts from those fair abodes where 
once thine ancestors held sovereign empire ! 

Let me not, however, lose the historian in the man, nor 
suffer the doting recollections of age to overcome me, while 
dwelling with fond garrulity on the virtuous days of the patri- 
archs — on those sweet days of simplicity and ease, which never 
more will dawn on the lovely island of Manna-hata ! 

The renowned Wouter (or Walter) Van Twiller was de- 
scended from a long line of Dutch burgomasters, who had 
successively dozed away their lives, and grown fat upon the 
bench of magistracy in Eotterdam ; and v/ho had comported 
themselves with such singular wisdom and propriety, that 
they were never either heard or talked of — which, next to be- 
ing universally applauded, should be the object of ambition of 
all sage magistrates and rulers. 

The surname of Twiller is said to be a corruption of the 
original Tivijfler, which in English means doubter; a name 
admirably descriptive of his deliberative habits. For, though 
he was a man shut up within himself like an oyster, and of 
such a profoundly reflective turn, that he scarcely ever spoke 
except in monosyllables, yet did he never make up his mind 
on any doubtful point. This was clearly accounted for by his 
adherents, who affirmed that he always conceived every ob- 
ject on so comprehensive a scale, that he had not room in hia 
head to turn it over and examine both sides of it, so that he 
always remained in doubt, merely in consequence of the aston- 
ishing magnitude of his ideas ! 

There are two opposite ways by which some men get into no 



A HISTORT OF NEW-TORK. 95 

tice — one by talking a vast deal and thinking a little, and the 
other by holding their tongues, and not thinking at all. By 
the first, many a vapouring, superficial pretender acquires the 
reputation of a man of quick parts — by the other, many a va- 
cant dunderpate, like the owl, ' he stupidest of birds, comes to 
be complimented by a discerning world with all the attributes 
of wisdom. This, by the way, is a mere casual remark, which 
I would not for the universe have it thought I apply to Gov- 
arnor Van Twiller. On the contrary, he was a very wise 
Dutchman, for he never said a foohsh thing — and of such in- 
vincible gravity, that he was never known to laugh, or even 
to smile, through the course of a long and prosperous life. 
Certain, however, it is, there never was a matter proposed, 
however simple, and on which your common narrow-minded 
mortals would rashly determine at the first glance, but what 
the renowned Wouter put on a mighty, mysterious, vacant 
kind of look, shook his capacious head, and, having smoked 
for five minutes with redoiibled earnestness, sagely observed, 
that "he had his doubts about the matter" — which in process 
of time gained him the character of a man slow in behef , and 
not easily imposed on. 

The person of this illustrious old gentleman was as regularly 
formed, and nobly proportioned, as though it had been moulded 
by the hands of some cunning Dutch statuary, as a model of 
majesty and lordly grandeur. He was exactly five feet six 
inches in height, and six feet five inches in circumference. His 
head was a perfect sphere, and of such stupendous dimensions, 
that dame Nature, with all her sex's ingenuity, would have 
been puzzled to construct a neck capable of supporting it; 
wherefore she wisely declined the attempt, and settled it firmly 
on the top of.his back-bone, just between the shoulders. - His 
body was of an oblong form, particularly capacious at bottom ; 
which was wisely ordered by Providence, seeing that he was a 
man of sedentary habits, and very averse to the idle labour of 
walking. His legs, though exceeding short, were sturdy in pro- 
portion to the weight they had to sustain ; so that when erect 
he had not a little the appearance of a robustious beer-barrel, 
standing on skids. His face, that infallible index of the mind, 
presented a vast expanse, perfectly unfurrowed or deformed by 
any of those lines and angles which disfigure the human coun- 
tenance ^vith what is termed expression. Two small gray ejes 
twinkled feebly in the midst, like two stars of lesser magni- 
tude in the hazy firmament; and his full-fed cheeks, which 



96 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

seemed to have taken toll of every thing that went into his 
mouth, were curiously mottled and streaked with dusky red, 
like a Spitzenberg apple. 

His habits were as regular as his person. He daily took his 
four stated meals, appropriating exactly an hour to each ; he 
smoked and doubted eight hours, and he slept the remainmg 
twelve of the four-and-twenty. Such was the renow^ied Wou- 
ter Van Twiller— a true philosopher, for his mind was either 
elevated above, or tranquilly settled below, the cares and per- 
plexities of this world. He had lived in it for years, without 
feeling the least curiosity to know whether the sun revolved 
round it, or it round the sun ; and he had watched, for at least 
half a century, the smoke curling from his pipe to the ceiling, 
without once troubling his head with any of those numerous 
theories, by which a philosopher would have perplexed his 
brain, in accounting for its rising above the surrounding 
atmosphere. 

In hi& council he presided with great state and solemnity. 
He sat. in a huge chair of solid oak, hewn in the celebrated for- 
est of the Hague, fabricated by an experienced timmerman of 
Amsterdam, and curiously carved about the arms and feet, 
into exact imitations of gigantic eagle's claws. Instead of a 
sceptre, he swayed a long Turkish pipe, wrought with jasmin 
and amber, which had been presented to a Stadtholder of Hol- 
land, at the conclusion of a treaty with one of the petty Bar- 
bary powers. In this stately chair would he sit, and this 
magnificent pipe would he smoke, shaking his right knee with 
a constant motion, and fixing his eye for hours together upon 
a little print of Amsterdam, which hung in a black frame 
against the opposite waU of the council chamber. Nay, it has 
even- been said, that when any dehberation of extraordinary 
length and intricacy was on the carpet, the renowned Woutor 
would absolutely shut his eyes for full two hours at a tunc, 
that he might not be disturbed by external objects— and n^ 
such times the internal commotion of his mind was evinced by 
certain regular guttural sounds, which his admirers declared 
were merely the noise of conflict, made by his contending 
doubts and opinions. 

It is with infinite difficulty I have been enabled to collect 
these biographical anecdotes of the great man under consider 
ation. The facts respecting Mm w^ere so scattered and vague, 
and divers of them so questionable in point of authenticitv, 
that I have had to give up the search after many, and decli::.^ 



A HIS TOBY OF JVEW-TOIiK. 97 

the admission of still more, which would have tended to heigh- 
ten the colouring of his portrait. 

I have been the more anxious to delineate fully the person 
and habits of the renowned Van Twiller, from the considera- 
tion that he was not only the first, but also the best governor 
that ever- presided over this ancient and respectable province ; 
and so tranquil and benevolent was his reign, that I do not 
find throughout the whole of it, a single instance of any offen- 
der being brought to punishment— a most indubitable sign of 
a merciful governor, and a case unparalleled, excepting in the 
reign of the illustrious King Log, from whom, it is hinted, the 
renowned Van Twiller was a hneal descendant. 

The very outset of the career of this excellent magistrate 
was distinguished by an example of legal acumen, that gave 
flattering presage of a wise and equitable administration. The 
morning after he had been solemnly installed in office, and at 
the moment that he was making his breakfast, from a pro- 
digious earthen dish, filled with milk and Indian pudding, he 
was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of one Wandlo 
Schoonhoven, a very important old burgher of New-Amster- 
dam, who complained bitterly of one Barent Bleecker, inasmuch 
as he fraudulently refused to come to a settlement of accounts, 
seeing that there was a heavy balance in favour of the said 
Wandie. Governor Van Twiller, as I have already observed, 
was a man of few words ; he was likewise a mortal enemy to 
multiplying writings — or being disturbed at his breakfast. 
Having listened attentively to the statement of Wandie 
Schoonhoven, giving an occasional grunt, as he shovelled a 
spoonful of Indian pudding into his mouth — either as a sign 
that he relished the dish, or comprehended the story — ^he 
called unto him his constable, and pulhng out of his breeches 
pocket a huge jack-knife, despatched it after the defendant as 
a summons, accompanied by his tobacco-box as a warrant. 

This summary process was as effectual in those simple days 
as was the seal-ring of the great Haroun Alraschid among the 
true believers. The two parties being confronted before him, 
each produced a book of accounts written in a language and 
character that would have puzzled any but a High Dutch com- 
mentator, or a learned decipherer of Egyptian obelisks, to 
understand. The sage Wouter took them one after the other, 
and having poised them in his hands, and attentively counted 
over the number of leaves, fell straightway into a very great 
doubt, and smoked for half an hour without saying a word ; at 



98 ^ HISTORY OF J^EW-YOUK. 

length, laying his finger beside his nose, and shutting his eyes 
for a moment, with the air of a man who has just caught a 
subtle idea by the tail, he slowly took his pipe from his mouth, 
puffed forth a column of tobacco-smoke, and with marvellous 
gravity and solemnity pronounced — that having carefully 
counted over the leaves and weighed the books, it was found, 
that one was just as tliick and as heavy as the other— therefore 
it was the final opinion of the court that the accounts were 
equally balanced— therefore Wandle should give Barent a re- 
ceipt, and Barent should give Wandle a receipt — and the con- 
stable shoLild pay the costs. 

This decision being straightway made known, diffused gene- 
ral joy throughout New-Amsterdam, for the people imme- 
diately perceived, that they had a very wise and equitable 
magistrate to .rule over them. But its happiest effect was, 
that not another law-suit took place throughout the whole of 
his administration — and the office of constable fell into such 
decay, that there was not one of those losel scouts known in 
the province for many years. I am the more particular in 
dwelling on this transaction, not only because I deem it one of 
the most sage and righteous judgments on record, and well 
worthy the attention of modern magistrates, but because it 
was a miraculous event in the history of the renowned 
Wouter — being the only time he was ever known to come to 
a decision in the whole course of his life. 



CHAPTER IL 

CONTAINING SOME ACCOUNT OF THE GRAND COUNCIL OF NEW 
AMSTERDAM, AS ALSO DIVERS ESPECIAL GOOD PHILOSOPHICAl 
REASONS WHY AN ALDERMAN SHOULD BE FAT — WITH OTHE.^ 
PARTICULARS TOUCHING THE STATE OF THE PROVINCE. 

In treating of the early governors of the province, I must 
caution my readers against confounding them, in point of 
dignity and power, with those worthy gentlemen who are 
whimsically denominated governors in this enlightened repub- 
Hc — a set' of unhappy victims of popularity, who are in fact the 
most dependent, henpecked beings in the community : doomed 
to bear th© secret goadings and corrections of their own party^ 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TOBK. 99 

and the sneers and revilings of the whole world beside ;— set up, 
like geese at Christmas holydays, to be pelted and shot at by 
every whipster and vagabond in the land. On the contrary, the 
Dutch governors enjoyed that uncontrolled authority vested in 
all commanders of distant colonies or territories. They were 
in a manner absolute despots in their httle domains, lording it, 
if so disposed, over both law and gospel, and accountable to 
none but the mother country ; which it is well known is aston- 
ishingly deaf to all complaints against its governors, provided 
they discharge the main duty of their station — squeezing out a 
good revenue. This hint will be of importance, to prevent my 
readers from being seized with doubt and incredulity, when- 
ever, in the course of this authentic history, they encounter 
the uncommon circumstance of a governor acting with inde- 
pendence, and in opposition to the opinions of the multitude. 

To assist the doubtful Wouter in the arduous business of 
legislation, a board of magistrates was appointed, which pre- 
sided innnediately over the police. This potent body consisted 
of a schout or baihff , with powers between those of the present 
mayor and sheriff — five burgermeesters, who were equivalent to 
aldermen, and five schepens, who officiated as scrubs, sub- 
devils, or bottle-holders to the burgermeesters, in the same 
manner as do assistant aldermen to their principals at the 
present day ; it being their duty to fill the pipes of the lordly 
burgermeesters — hunt the markets for delicacies for corpora- 
tion dinners, and to discharge such other little ofiices of kind- 
ness as were occasionally required. It was, moreover, tacitly 
understood, though not specifically enjoined, that they should 
consider themselves as butts for the blunt wits of the bur- 
germeesters, and should laugh most heartily at all their jokes ; 
but this last was a duty as rarely called in action in those 
days as it is at present, and was shortly remitted, in conse- 
quence of the tragical death of a fat little schepen — who 
actually died of suffocation, in an unsuccessful effort to force a 
laugh at one of the burgermeester Van Zandt's best jokes. 

In return for these humble services, they were permitted to 
say yes and no at the council board, and to have that enviable 
privilege, the run of the public kitchen— being graciously per- 
mitted to eat, and drink, and smoke, at all snug junketings and 
public gormandizings, for which the ancient magistrates were 
equally famous with their modern successors. The post of 
schepen, therefore, hke that of assistant alderman, was eagerly 
coveted by all your burghers of a certain description, who have 



100 A HISTORY OF NEWTORK. 

a huge relish for good feeding, and an humble ambition to be 
great men in a small way — who thirst after a little brief 
authority, that shall render them the terror of the alms-house 
and the bridewell— that shall enable them to lord it over obse- 
quious poverty, vagrant vice, outcast prostitution, and hunger- 
driven dishonesty— that shall give to their beck a hound-like 
pack of catch-poles and bum-bailiffs— tenfold greater rogues 
than the culprits they hunt down !— My readers will excuse this 
sudden warmth, which I confess is unbecoming of a grave 
historian— but I have a moral antipathy to catch-poles, bum- 
bailiffs, and little great men. 

The ancient magistrates of this city corresponded with those 
of the present time no less in form, magnitude, and intellect, 
than in prerogative and privilege. The burgomasters, hke our 
aldermen, were generally chosen by weight —and not only the 
weight of the body, but likewise the weight of the head. It is 
a maxim practically observed in all honest, plain-thinking, 
regular cities, that an alderman should be fat— and the wisdom 
of this can be proved to a certainty. That the body is in some 
measure an image of the mind, or rather that the mind is 
moulded to the body, like melted lead to the clay in which it 
is cast, has been insisted on by many philosophers, who have 
made human nature their peculiar study— for as a learned 
gentleman of our own city observes, "there is a constant rela- 
tion between the moral character of all intelhgent creatures, 
and their physical constitution — between their habits and the 
structure of their bodies." Thus we see, that a lean, spare, 
diminutive body, is generally accompanied by a petulant, rest- 
less, meddling mind — either the mind wears down the body, by 
its continual motion ; or else the body, not affording the mind 
suflScient house-room, keeps it continually in a state of fretful- 
ness, tossing and worrying about from the uneasiness of its 
situation. Whereas your round, sleek, fat, unwieldy peri- 
phery is ever attended by a mind like itself, tranquil, torpid, 
and at ease ; and we may always observe, that your well-fed, 
robustious burghers are in general very tenacious of their ease 
and comfort ; being great enemies to noise, discord, and distur- 
bance — and surely none are more Hkely to study the pubhc 
tranquillity than those who are so careful of their own. Who 
ever hears of fat men heading a riot, or herding together in 
turbulent mobs? — no — no — it is your lean, hungry men, who 
are continually worrying society, and setting the whole com- 
munity by the ears. 



A HISTORY OF NE^Y-Y01lK. 1()1 

The divine Plato, whose doctrines are not sufficiently 
attended to by pliilosophers of the present age, allows to every 
man three souls — one immortal and rational, seated in the 
brain, that it may overlook and regulate the body — a second 
consisting of the surly and irascible passions, which, Uke 
belligerent powers, lie encamped around the heart — a third 
mortal and sensual, destitute of reason, gross and brutal in its 
propensities, and enchained in the belly, that it may not dis- 
turb the divine soul, by its ravenous howHngs. Now, accord- 
ing to this excellent theory, what can be more clear, than that 
your fat alderman is most likely to have the most regular and 
well-conditioned mind. His head is Hke a huge, spherical 
chamber, containing a prodigious mass of soft brains, whereon 
the rational soul lies softly and snugly couched, as on a feather 
bed ; and the eyes, which are the windows of the bed-chamber, 
are usually half-closed, that its slumberings may not be dis- 
turbed by external objects. A mind thus comfortably lodged, 
and protected from disturbance, is manifestly most likely to 
perform its functions with regularity and ease. By dint of 
good feeding, moreover, the mortal and mahgnant soul, which 
is confined in the belly, and which, by its raging and roaring, 
puts the irritable soul in the neighbourhood of the heart in an 
intolerable passion, and thus renders men crusty and quarrel- 
some when hungry, is completely pacified, silenced, and put to 
rest — whereupon a host of honest good-fellow qualities and 
kind-hearted affections, which had lain perdue, slyly peeping 
out of the loop-holes of the heart, finding this Cerberus asleep, 
do pluck up their spirits, turn out one and all in their holyday 
suits, and gambol up and down the diaphragm — disjjosing 
their possessor to laughter, good-humour, and a thousand 
friendly offices towards Ms fellow-mortals. 

As a board of magistrates, formed on this model, think but 
very little, they are the less likely to differ and wrangle about 
favourite opinions — and as they generally transact business 
upon a hearty dinner, they are naturally disposed to-be lenient 
and indulgent in the administration of their duties. Charle- 
magne was conscious of this, and, therefore, (a pitiful measure, 
for wliich I can never forgive him,) ordered in his cartularies, 
that no judge should hold a court of justice, except in th« 
morning, on an empty stomach— a rule, which, I warrant, 
bore hard upon all the poor culprits in his kingdom. The 
more enhghtened and humane generation of the present day 
have taken an opposite course, and have so managed, that the 



109 A HISTORY OF NEW-TORE. 

aldermen are the best-fed men in the community; feasting 
lustily on the fat things of the land, and gorging so heartily 
oysters and turtles, that in process of time they acquire the 
activity of the one, and the form, the waddle, and the green 
fat of the other. The consequence is, as I have just said, these 
luxurious feastings do produce such a dulcet equanimity and 
repose of the soul, rational and irrational, that their transac- 
tions are proverbial for unvarying monotony — and the pro- 
found laAvs which they enact in their dozing moments, amid 
the labours of digestion, are quietly suffered to remain as dead- 
letters, and never enforced, when awake. In a word, your 
fair, round-bellied burgomaster, hke a full-fed mastiff, dozes 
quietly at the house-door, always at home, and always at hand 
to watch over its safety — ^but as to electing a lean, meddling 
candidate to the office, as has now and then been done, I would 
as lief put a grayhound to watch the house, or a race-horse to 
drag an ox-wagon. 

The burgomasters then, as I have already mentioned, were 
wisely chosen by weight, and the schepens, or assistant alder- 
men, were appointed to attend upon them, and help them eat ; 
but the latter, in the course of time, when they had been fed 
and fattened into sufficient bulk of body and drowsiness of 
brain, became very ehgible candidates for the burgomasters' 
chairs, having fairly eaten themselves into office, as a mouse 
eats his way into a comfortable lodgment in a goodly, blue- 
nosed, skimmed-milk, New-England cheese. 

Nothing could equal the profound deliberations that took 
place between the renowned Wouter and these his worthy 
compeers, unless it be the sage divans of some of our modern 
corporations. They would sit for hours smoking and dozing 
over public affairs, without speaking a word to interrupt that 
perfect stillness so necessary to deep reflection. Under the 
sober sway of Wouter Van Twiller, and these his worthy coad- 
jutors, the infant settlement waxed vigorous apace, gradually 
emerging from the swamps and forests, and exhibiting that 
mingled appearance of town and country, customary in new 
cities, and which at this day may be witnessed in the city of 
Washington — that immense metropolis, which makes so glori- 
ous an appearance on paper. 

It was a pleasing sight, in those times, to behold the honest 
burgher, like a patriarch of yore, seated on the bench at the 
door of his whitewashed house, under the shade of some 
gigantic sycamore or overhanging willow. Here would ho 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 103 

smoke his pipe of a sultry afternoon, enjoying the soft south- 
ern breeze, and listening with silent gratulation to the cluck- 
ing of his hens, the cackling of his geese, and the sonorous 
grunting of his swine ; that combination of farm-yard melody, 
which may truly be said to have a silver sound, inasmuch as 
it conveys a certain assurance of profitable marketing. 

The modern spectator, who wanders through the streets of 
this populous city, can scarcely form an idea of the different 
appearance they presented in the primitive days of the Doubt- 
er. The busy hum of multitudes, the shouts of revelry, the 
rumbling equipages of fashion, the rattling of accursed carts, 
and all the spirit-grieving sounds of brawling commerce, were 
unknown in the settlement of New- Amsterdam. The grass 
grew quietly in the highways — the bleating r.heep and frolic- 
some calves sported about the verdant ridge where now the 
Broadway loungers take their morning stroll — the cunning 
fox or ravenous wolf skulked in the woods, where now are to 
be seen the dens of Gomez and his righteous fraternity of 
money-brokers — and flocks of vociferous geese cackled about 
the fields, where now the great Tammany wigwam and the 
patriotic tavern of Martling echo with the wranglings of the 
mob. 

In these good times did a true and enviable equality of rank 
and property prevail, equally removed from the arrogance of 
wealth, and the servility and heart-burnings of repining pov- 
erty — and what in my mind is still more conducive to tran- 
quillity and harmony among friends, a happy equality of 
intellect was likewise to be seen. The minds of the good 
burghers of New- Amsterdam seemed all to have been cast in 
one mould, and to be those honest, blunt minds, which, like 
certain manufactures, are made by the gross, and considered 
as exceedingly good for common use. 

Thus it happens that your true dull minds are generally pre- 
ferred for public employ, and especially promoted to city 
honours ; yonr keen intellects, hke razors, being considered too 
sharp for common service. I know that it is common to rail 
at the unequal distribution of riches, as the great source of 
jealousies, broils, and heart-breakings; whereas, for my part, 
I verily believe it is the sad inequality of intellect that pre- 
vails, that embroils communities more than anything else; 
and I have remarked that your knowing people, who are so 
much wiser than any body else, are eternally keeping society 
in a ferment. Happily for New- Amsterdam, nothing of the 



104 » ^ BISTORT OF NEW-YORK. 

kind was known within its walls — the very words of learninpr, 
education, taste, and talents were unheard of — a bright genius 
was an animal unknown, and a blue-stocking lady would have 
been regarded with as much wonder as a horned frog or a fiery 
dragon. No man, in fact, seemed to know more than his 
neighbour, nor any man to know more than an honest man 
ought to know, who has nobody's business to mind but his 
own ; the parson and the council clerk were the only men that 
could read in the community, and the sage Van Twiller 
always signed his name with a cross. 

Thrice happy and ever to be envied little burgh ! existing in 
all the security of harmless insignificance— unnoticed and un- 
envied by the world, without ambition, without vain-glory, 
without riches, without learning, and all their train of carking 
cares — and as of yore, in the better days of man, the deities 
were wont to visit him on earth and bless his rural habitations, 
so we are told, in the sylvan days of New- Amsterdam, the 
good St. Nicholas would often make his appearance in his 
beloved city, of a holy day afternoon, riding jollily among the 
tree-tops, or over the roofs of the houses, now and then draw- 
ing forth magnificent presents from his breeches pockets, and 
dropping them down the chimneys of his favourites. Whereas 
in these degenerate days of iron and brass, he never shows us 
the light of his countenance, nor ever visits us, save one night 
in the year; when he rattles down the chimneys of the de- 
scendants of the patriarchs, confining his presents merely to 
the children, in token of the degeneracy of the parents. 

Such are the comfortable and thriving effects of a fat gov- 
ernment. The province of the New-Netherlands, destitute of 
wealth, possessed a sweet tranquillity that wealth could never 
purchase. There were neither public commotions, nor private 
quarrels; neither parties, nor sects, nor schisms; neither per- 
secutions, nor trials, nor punishments ; nor were there counsel- 
lors, attorneys, catch-poles, or hangmen. Every mon attended 
to what little business he was lucky enough to have, or neg- 
lected it if he pleased, without asking the opinion of liis neigh- 
bour. In those days, nobody meddled with concerns above his 
comprehension, nor thrust his nose into other people's affairs ; 
nor neglected to correct his own conduct, and reform his own 
character, in his zeal to pull to pieces the characters of others 
— but in a word, every respectable citizen eat when he was not 
hungry, drank when he was not thirsty, and went regularly 
to bed when the sun set, and the fowls went to roost, whether 



A HISTOIIY OF NEW-YOMK. 205 

he were sleepy or not; all which tended so remarkably to the 
population of the settlement, that I am told every dutiful wife 
throughout New-Amsterdam made a point of enriching her 
husband with at least one child a year, and very often a brace 
—this superabundance of good things clearly constituting the 
true luxury of hf e, according to the favourite Dutch maxim, 
that "more than enough constitutes a feast." Every thing' 
therefore, went on exactly as it should' do; and in the usual 
words employed by historians to express the welfare of a 
country, "the profomidest tranquillity and repose reigned 
throughout the province." 



CHAPTER III. 



TtO^ THE TOWN OF NEW- AMSTERDAM AROSE OUT OF MUD, AND 
CA51E TO BE MARVELLOUSLY POLISHED AND POLITE— TOGETHER 
WITH A PICTURE OF THE MANNERS OF OUR GREAT-GREAT- 
.(3RANDFATHERS. 

Manifold are the tastes and dispositions of the enlightened 
literati, who turn ov^er the pages of history. Some there be, 
whose hearts are brimful of the yeast of courage, and whose 
bosoms do work, and swell and foam, with untried valour, hke 
a barrel of new cider, or a train-band captain, fresh from under 
the hands of his tailor. This doughty class of readers can be 
satisfied with nothing but bloody battles and horrible en- 
counters; they must be continually storming forts, sacking 
cities, springing mines, marching up to the muzzles of cannon, 
charging bayonet through every page, and revelling m gun- 
powder and carnage. Others, who are of a less martial, but 
equally ardent imagination, and who, withal, are a little 
given to the marvellous, will dwell with wondrous satisfac- 
I tion on descriptions of prodigies, unheard-of events, hair- 
' breadth escapes, hardy adventures, and all those astonishing 
narrations that just amble along the boundary line of possi- 
bility. A third class, who, not to speak slightly of them, are 
of a hghter turn, and skim over the records of past times, as 
they do over the edifying pages of a novel, merely for relaxa- 
tion and innocent amusement, do singularly dehght in trea- 
sons, executions, Sabine rapes, Tarquin outrages, conflagra- 



106 -4 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

tions, murders, and all the other catalogue of hideous crimes, 
that, hke cayenne in cookery, do give a pungency and flavour 
to the dull detail of history — while a fourth class, of more 
l^hilosophic habits, do diligently pore over the musty chroni- 
cles of time, to investigate the operations of the human kind, 
and watch the gradual changes in men and manners, effected 
by the progress of knowledge, the vicissitudes of events, or the 
influence of situation. 

If the three first classes find but little' wherewithal to solace 
themselves in the tranquil reign of Wouter Van Twiller, I 
entreat them to exert their patience for a while, and bear with 
the tedious picture of happiness, prosperity, and peace, which 
my duty as a faithful historian obliges me to draAv; and I 
promise them that as soon as I can possibly light upon any 
thing horrible, uncommon, or impossible, it shall go hard, but I 
wiU make it afford them entertainment. This being promised, 
I turn with great complacency to the fourth class of my 
readers, who are men, or, if possible, women, after my own 
heart; grave, philosophical, and investigating; fond of ana- 
lyzing characters, of taking a start from first causes, and so 
hunting a nation down, through all the mazes of innovation 
and improvement. Such will naturally be anxious to wit- 
ness the first development of the newly-hatched colony, and 
the primitive manners and customs prevalent among its in- 
habitants, during the halcyon reign of Van Twiller, or the 
Doubter. 

I will not grieve their patience, however, by describing 
minutely the increase and improvement of New- Amsterdam. 
Their own imaginations will doubtless present to them the 
good burghers, like so many pains-taking and persevering 
beavers, slowly and surely pursuing their labours — ^they will 
behold the prosperous transformation from the rude log-hut 
to the stately Dutch mansion, with brick front, glazed win- 
dows, and tiled roof — from the tangled thicket to the luxuriant 
cabbage garden; and from the skulking Indian to the pon- 
derous burgomaster. In a word, they will picture to them- 
selves the steady, silent, and undeviating march to prosperity, 
incident to a city destitute of pride or ambition, cherished by 
a fat government, and whose citizens do nothing in a hurry. 

The sage council, as has been mentioned in a preceding 
chapter, not being able to determine upon any plan for the 
building of their city^the cows, in a laudable fit of patriotism, 
took it under their peculiar charge, and as they w^nt to and 



A BISTORT OF NEW-TORK. 107 

from pasture, established paths through the bushes, on each 
side of which the good folks built their houses ; which is one 
cause of the rambhng and picturesque turns and labyrinths, 
which distinguish certain streets of New- York at this very 
day. 

The houses of the higher class were generally constructed of 
wood, excepting the gable end, which was of small black and 
ycMow Dutch bricks, and always faced on the street, as our 
ancestors, like their descendants, were very much given to 
outward show, and were noted for joutting the best leg fore- 
most. The house was always furnished with abundance of 
large doors and small windows on every floor ; the date of its 
erection was curiously designated by iron figures on the front ; 
and on the top of the roof was perched a fierce little weather- 
cock, to let the family into the important secret which way 
the wind blcAV. These, like the weathercocks on the tops of 
our steeples, pointed so many different ways, that every man 
could have a wind to his mind ; — the most staunch and loyal 
citizens, however, always went according to the weathercock 
on the top of the governor's house, which was certainly the 
most correct, as he had a trusty servant employed every 
morning to climb up and set it to the right quarter. 

In those good days of simplicity and sunshine, a passion for 
cleanliness was the leading principle in domestic economy, and 
the universal test of an able housewife— a character which 
formed the utmost ambition of our unenlightened grandmoth- 
ers. The front door was never opened except on marriages, 
funerals, new-year's days, the festival of St. Nicholas, or some 
such great occasion. It was ornamented with a gorgeous brass 
knocker, curiously wrought, sometimes in the device of a dog, 
and sometimes of a lion's head, and was daily burnished with 
such religious zeal, that it was ofttimes worn out by the very 
^precautions taken for its preservation. The whole house was 
constantly in a state of inundation, under the discipline of 
mops and brooms and scrubbing-brushes ; and the good house- 
wives of those days were a kind of amphibious animal, delight- 
ing exceedingly to be dabbling in water — ^insomuch that a 
historian of the day gravely teUs us, that many of his towns- 
women grew to have webbed fingers like unto a duck ; and 
some of them, he had little doubt, could the matter be exam- 
ined into, would be found to have the tails of mermaids — ^but 
this I look upon to be a mere sport of fancy, or what is worse, 
a wilful misrepresentation. 



i08 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

The grand parlour was the sanctum sanctorum, where the 
passion for cleaning was indulged without control. In this 
sacred apartment no one was permitted to enter, excepting the 
mistress and her confidential maid, who visited it once a week, 
for the purpose of giving it a thorough cleaning, and putting 
things to rights— always taking the precaution of leaving their 
shoes at the door, and entering devoutly in their stocking-feet. 
After scrubbing the floor, sprinkling it with fine white s^nd, 
which was curiously stroked into angles, and curves, and 
rhomboids, with a broom— after washing the windows, rub- 
bing and polishing the furniture, and putting a new bunch of 
evergreens in the fire-place -the window-shutters were again 
closed to keep out the flies, and the room carefully locked up 
until the revolution of time brought round the weekly clean- 
ing day. 

As to the famfly, they always entered in at the gate, and 
most generally lived in the kitchen. To have seen a numer- 
ous household assembled around the fire, one would have 
imagined that he was transported back to those happy days of 
primeval simphcity, which float before our imaginations like 
golden visions. The fire-places were of a truly patriarchal 
magnitude, where the whole family, old and young, master and 
servant, black and white, nay, even the very cat and dog, en- 
joyed a community of privilege, and had each a right to a 
corner. Here the old burgher would sit in perfect sflence, 
puffing his pipe, looking in the fire with half -shut eyes, and 
thinking of nothing for hours together; the goede vrouw on 
the opposite side would employ herself diligently in spinning 
yarn, or knitting stockings. The young folks would crowd 
around the hearth, listening with breathless attention to some 
old crone of a negro, who was the oracle of the family, and 
who, perched like a raven in a corner of the chimney, would 
croak forth for a long winter afternoon a string of incredible 
stories about New-England witches— grisly ghosts, horses with- 
out heads— and hairbreadth escapes and bloody encounters 
among the Indians. 

In those happy days a well-regulated family always rose 
with the dawn, dined at eleven, and went to bed at sun-down. 
Dinner was invariably a private meal, and the fat old burgh- 
ers showed incontestable symptoms of disapprobation and un- 
easiness at being surprised by a visit from a neighbour on such 
occasions. But though our worthy ancestors were thus singu- 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK 109 

larly averse to giving dinners, yet they kept up the social bands 
of intimacy by occasional banquetings, called tea-parties. 

These fashionable parties were generally confined to the 
higher classes, or noblesse, that is to say, such as kept their 
own cows, and drove their own wagons. The company com- 
monly assembled at three o'clock, and went away about six, 
unless it was in winter-time, when the fashionable hours were 
a Uttle earlier, that the ladies might get home before da^rk. 
The tea-table was crowned with a huge earthen dish, well 
stored with slices of fat pork, fried brown, cut up into mor- 
sels, and swimming in gravy. The company being seated 
around the genial board, and each furnished with a fork, 
evinced their dexterity in launching at the fattest pieces in this 
mighty dish — in much the same manner as sailors harpoon 
porpoises at sea, or our Indians spear salmon in the lakes. 
Sometimes the table was graced with immense apple pies, or 
saucers full of preserved peaches and pears ; but it was always 
sure to boast an enormous dish of balls of sweetened dough, 
fried in hog's fat, and called doughnuts, or olykoeks — a deli- 
cious kind of cake, at present scarce known in this city, ex- 
cepting in genuine Dutch famihes. 

The tea was served out of a majestic delft tea-pot, orna- 
mented with paintings of fat little Dutch shepherds and shep- 
herdesses tending pigs— with boats saihng in the air, and 
houses built in the clouds, and sundry other ingenious Dutch 
fantasies. The beaux distinguished themselves by their adroit- 
ness in replenishing this pot from a huge coppper tea-kettle, 
which would have made the pigmy macaronies of these degene- 
rate days sweat merely to look at it. To sweeten the beverage, 
a lump of sugar was laid beside each cup — and the company 
alternately nibbled and sipped with great decorum, until an 
improvement was introduced by a shrewd and economic old 
lady, which was to suspend a large lump directly over the tea- 
table, by a string from the ceiling, so that it could be swung 
from mouth to mouth — an ingenious expedient which is still 
kept up by some families in Albany ; but which prevails with- 
out exception in Communipaw, Bergen, Flatbush, and all our 
uncontaminated Dutch villages. 

At these primitive tea-parties the utmost propriety and dig- 
nity of deportment prevailed. No flirting nor coquetting — no 
gambling of old ladies, nor hoyden chattering and romping of 
young ones — no self-satisfied struttings of wealthy gentlemen, 
with their brains in their pockets — nor amusing conceits, and 



-[10 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

monkey divertisements, of sr^art young gentlemen with no 
brains at all. On the contrary, the young ladies seated them- 
selves demurely in their rush-bottomed chairs, and knit theu' 
own woollen stockings ; nor ever opened their hps, excepting to 
say, yah Mynheer, or yah yah Vrouiv, to any question that was 
asked tliem ; behaving, in all things, like decent, well-educated 
damsels. As to the gentlemen, each of them tranquilly smoked 
his pipe, and seemed lost in contemplation of the blue and 
white tiles with which the fire-places were decorated ; wherein 
sundry passages of scripture were piously portrayed — Tobit 
and his dog figured to great advantage ; Haman swung con- 
spicuously on his gibbet ; and Jonah appeared most manfully 
bouncing out of the whale, hke Harlequin through a barrel 
of fire. 

The parties broke up without noise and without confusion. 
They were carried home by their own carriages, that is to say, 
by the vehicles Nature had provided them, excepting such of 
the wealthy as could afford to keep a wagon. The gentlemen 
gallantly attended their fair ones to their respective abodes, 
and took leave of them with a hearty smack at the door; 
which, as it was an estabhshed piece of etiquette, done in per- 
fect simplicity and honesty of heart, occasioned no scandal at 
that time, nor should it at the present — if our great-grand- 
fathers approved of the custom, it would argue a great want 
of reverence in their descendants to say a word against it. 



CHAPTER IV. 



CONTAINING FURTHER PARTICULARS OF THE GOLDEN AGE, AND 
WHAT CONSTITUTED A FINE LADY AND GENTLEMAN IN THE 
DAYS OF WALTER THE DOUBTER. 

In this dulcet period of my history, when the beauteous 
island of Manna-hata presented a scene, the very counterpart 
of those glowing pictures drawn of the golden reign of Saturn, 
there was, as I have before observed, a happy ignorance, an 
honest simplicity, prevalent among its inhabitants, which, 
were I even able to depict, would be but little understood by 
the degenerate age for which I am doomed to write. Even the 
female sex, those arch innovators upon the tranquilhty, the 
honesty, and gray-beard customs of society, seemed for a 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. HI 

while to conduct themselves with incredible sobriety and 
comeliness. 

Their hair, untortured by the abominations of art, was scru- 
pulously pomaturQcd back from their foreheads with a candle, 
and covered with a little cap of quilted calico, which fitted 
exa,ctly to their heads. Their petticoats of linsey-woolsey 
were striped with a variety of gorgeous dyes — though I must 
confess these gallant garments were rather short, scarce 
reaching below the knee; but then they made up in the 
number, which generally equalled that of the gentlemen's 
small-clothes ; and what is stiU more praiseworthy, they were 
all of their own manufacture — of which circumstance, as may 
well be supposed, they were not a httle vain. 

These were the honest days, in which every woman staid at 
home, read the Bible, and wore pockets — ay, and that too of a 
goodly size, fashioned with patchwork into many curious de- 
vices, and ostentatiously worn on the outside. These, in fact, 
were convenient receptacles, where all good housewives care- 
fully stowed away such things as they washed to have at hand ; 
by w^hich means they often came to be incredibly crammed — 
and I remember there was a story current when I was a boy, 
that the lady of Wouter Van Twiller once had occasion to 
empty her right pocket in search of a wooden ladle, and the 
Utensil was discovered lying among some rubbish in one 
corner — ^but we must not give too much faith to all these 
stories ; the anecdotes of those remote periods being very sub- 
ject to exaggeration. 

Besides these notable pockets, they likewise wore scissors 
and pincushions suspended from their girdles by red ribands, 
or, among the more opulent and showy classes, by brass, and 
even silver chains, indubitable tokens of thrifty housewives 
and industrious spinsters. I cannot say much in vindication 
of the shortness of the petticoats ; it doubtless was introduced 
for the purpose of giving the stockings a chance to be seen, 
which were generally of blue worsted, with magnificent red 
clocks— or perhaps to display a well-turned ankle, and a neat, 
though serviceable, foot, set off by a high-heeled leathern shoe, 
with a large and splendid silver buckle. Thus we find that 
the gentle sex in all ages have shown the same disposition to 
infringe a little upon the laws of decorum, in order to betray a 
lurking beauty, or gratify an innocent love of finery. 

From the sketch here given, it will be seen that our good 
grandmothers differed considerably in their ideas of a fine 



112 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

figure from their scantily- dressed descendants of the present 
day. A fine lady, in those times, waddled under more clothes, 
even on a fair summer's day, than would have clad the whole 
bevy of a modern ball-room. Nor were they the less admired 
by the gentlemen in consequence thereof. On the contrary, 
the greatness of a lover's passion seemed to increase in pro- 
portion to the magnitude of its object — and a voluminous 
damsel, arrayed in a dozen of petticoats, was declared by a 
Low Dutch sonnetteer of the province to be radiant as a sun- 
flower, and luxuriant as a full-blown cabbage. Certain it is, 
that in those days, the heart of a lover could not contain more 
than one lady at a time ; whereas the heart of a modern gal- 
lant has often room enough to accommodate half-a-dozen. 
The reason of which I conclude to be, that either the hearts of 
the gentlemen have grown larger, or the persons of the ladies 
smaller — this, however, is a question for physiologists to deter- 
mine. 

But there was a secret charm in these petticoats, which no 
doubt entered into the consideration of the prudent gallants. 
The wardrobe of a lady was in those days her only fortune ; 
and she who had a good stock of petticoats and stockings was 
as absolutely an heiress as is a Kamtschatka damsel with a 
store of bear-skins, or a Lapland belle with a plenty of rein- 
deer. The ladies, therefore, were very anxious to display 
these powerful attractions to the greatest advantage ; and the 
best rooms in the house, instead of being adorned with carica- 
tures of dame Nature, in water-colours and needle-work, were 
always hung round with abundance of home-spun garments, 
the manufacture and the property of the females — a piece of 
laudable ostentation that still prevails among the heiresses of 
our Dutch villages. 

The gentlemen, in fact, who figured in the circles of the gay 
w rlcl in these ancient times, corresponded, in most parti- 
culars, with the beauteous damsels whose smiles they were 
r.mbitious to deserve. True it is, their merits would make but 
a very inconsiderable impression upon the heart of a modern 
fair; they neither drove their curricles nor sported their tan- 
dems, for as yet those gaudy vehicles were not even dreamt of 
— neither did they distinguish themselves by their brilliancy 
at the table and their consequent rencontres with watchmen, 
for our forefathers were of too pacific a disposition to need 
those guardians of the night, every soul throughout the town 
being sound asleep before nine o'clock. Neither did they 



A HIS TOBY OF NEW- YORK. 113 

establish their claims to gentility at the expense of their 
tailors — for as yet those offenders against the pockets of 
society and the tranquillity of all aspiring young gentlemen 
were unknown in Ne w- Amsterdam ; every good housewife 
made the clothes of her husband and family, and even the 
goede vrouw of Van Twiller himself thought it no disparage- 
ment to cut out her husband's linsey-woolsey gaUigaskihs. 

Not but what there were some two or three youngsters 
who manifested the first dawnings of what is called fire and 
spirit— who held all labour in contempt ; skulked about docks 
and market places ; loitered in the sunshine ; squandered what 
httle money they could procure at hustle-cap and chuck-far- 
thing; swore, boxed, fought cocks, and raced their neighbours' 
horses — in short, who promised to be the wonder, the talk, and 
abomination of the town, had not their stylish career been un- 
fortunately cut short by an affair of honour with a whipping- 
post. 

Far other, however, was the truly fashionable gentleman of 
those days— his dress, which served for both morning and 
evening, street and drawing-room, was a linsey-woolsey coat, 
made, perhaps, by the fair hands of the mistress of his affec- 
tions, and gallantly bedecked with abundance of large brass 
buttons — half a score of breeches heightened the proportions of 
his figure— his shoes were decorated by enormous copper 
buckles — a low-crowned, broad-brimmed hat overshadowed his 
burly visage, and his hair dangled down his back in a pro- 
digious queue of eel-skin. 

Thus equipped, he woidd manfully sally forth with pipe in 
mouth, to besiege some fair damsel's obdurate heart— not such 
a pipe, good reader, as that which Acis did sweetly tune in 
praise of his Galatea, but one of true delft manufacture, and 
furnished with a charge of fragrant tobacco. With this would 
he resolutely set himself down before the fortress, and rarely 
failed, in the process of time, to smoke the fair enemy into a 
surrender, upon honourable terms. 

Such was the happy reign of Wouter Van Twiller, celebrated 
in many a long-forgotten song as the real golden age, the rest 
being nothing but counterfeit copper-washed coin. In that de- 
hghtful period a sweet and holy calm reigned over the whole 
province. The burgomaster smoked his pipe in peace — ^the 
substantial solace of his domestic cares, after her daily toils 
were done, sat soberly at the door, with her arms crossed over 
her apron of snowy white, without being insulted by ribald 



-[14 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

street-walkers, or vagabond boys — those unlucky urchins, who 
do so infest our streets, displaying under the roses of youth 
the thorns and briars of iniquity. Then it was that the 'lover 
with ten breeches, and the damsel with petticoats of haK a 
score, indulged in all the innocent endearments of virtuous 
love, without fear and without reproach; for what had that 
vu'tue to fear which was defended by a shield of good linsey- 
woolseys, equal at least to the seven bull-hides of the invinci- 
ble Ajax? 

Ah ! bhssf ul, and never-to-be-forgotten age ! when every 
thing was better than it has ever been since, or ever will be 
again— when Buttermilk Channel was quite dry at low water 
— *when the shad in the Hudson were all salmon, and when the 
moon shone with a pure and resplendent whiteness, instead of 
that melancholy yellow light which is the consequence of her 
sickening at the abominations she every night witnesses in 
this degenerate city ! 

Happy would it have been for New-Amsterdam, could it 
always have existed in this state of bhssful ignorance and 
lowly simplicity — ^but, alas! the days of childhood are too 
sweet to last ! Cities, like men, grow out of them in time, and 
are doomed alike to grow into the bustle, the cares, and 
miseries of the world. Let no man congratulate himself when 
he beholds the child of his bosom or the city of his birth in- 
creasing in magnitude and importance — let the history of liis 
own life teach him the dangers of the one, and this excellent 
little history of Manna-hata convince him of the calamities of 
the other. 



CHAPTER V. 



IN WHICH THE READER IS BEGUILED INTO A DELECTABLE WALK 
WHICH ENDS VERY DIFFERENTLY FROM WHAT IT COMMENCED. 

In the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and 
four, on a fine afternoon, in the glowing month of September, 
I took my customary walk upon the Battery, which is vt once 
the pride and bulwark of this ancient and impregnable city 
of New- York. The ground on which I trod was hallowed by 
recollections of the past, and as I slowy wandered through the 
long alley of poplars, which Uke so many birch-brooms stand- 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TOBK. 115 

ing on end, diffused a melancholy and lugubrious shade, my 
imagination drew a contrast between the surrounding scenery, 
and what it was in the classic days of our forefathers. Where 
the government-house by name, but the custom-house by occu- 
pation, proudly reared its brick walls and wooden pillars, there 
whilome stood the low but substantial, red-tiled mansion of the 
renowned Wouter Van Twiller. Around it the mighty bul- 
warks of Fort Amsterdam frowned defiance to eveiy absent 
foe; but, hke many a whiskered warrior and gallant mihtia 
captain, confined their martial deeds to frowns alone. The mud 
breast- works had long been levelled with the earth, and their 
site converted into the green lawns and leafy alleys of the Bat- 
tery ; where the gay apprentice sported his Sunday coat, and 
the laborious mechanic, reheved from the dirt and drudgery of 
the week, poured his weekly tale of love into the haK-averted 
ear of the sentimental chambermaid. The capacious bay still 
presented the same expansive sheet of water, studded with 
islands, sprinkled with fishing-boats, and bounded with shores 
of picturesque beauty. But the dark forests which once 
clothed these shores had been violated by the savage hand 
of cultivation; and their tangled mazes, and impenetrable 
thickets, had degenerated into teeming orchards and waving 
fields of grain. Even Governor's Island, once a smiling gar- 
den, appertaining to the sovereigns of the province, was now 
covered with fortifications, inclosing a tremendous blockhouse 
— so that this once peaceful island resembled a fierce little war- 
rior in a big cocked hat, breathing gunpowder and defiance to 
the world! 

For some time did I indulge in this pensive train of thought ; 
contrasting, in sober sadness, the present day with the hal- 
lowed years behind the mountains ; lamenting the melancholy 
progress of improvement, and praising the zeal with wliich our 
worthy burghers endeavour to preserve the wrecks of vener- 
able customs, prejudices, and errors, from the overwhelming 
tide of modern innovation — when by degrees my ideas took a 
different turn, and I insensibly awakened to an enjoyment of 
the beauties around me. 

It was on© of those rich autumnal days, which Heaven par- 
ticularly bestows upon the beauteous island of Manna-hata 
and its vicinity — not a floating cloud obscured the azure firma- 
ment—the sun, rolling in glorious splendour through his ethe- 
real course, seemed to expand his honest Dutch countenance 
into an unusual expression of benevolence, as he smiled his 



116 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

evening salutation upon a city which he delights to visit with 
his most bounteous beams— the very winds seemed to hold in 
their breaths in mute attention, lest they should ruffle the 
tranquillity of the hour — and the waveless bosom of the bay 
presented a polished mirror, in which Nature beheld herself 
and smiled. The standard of our city, reserved, like a choice 
handkerchief, for days of gala, hung motionless on the flag 
staff, which forms the handle to a gigantic churn; and even 
the tremulous leaves of the poplar and the aspen ceased to 
vibrate to the breath of heaven. Every thing seemed to ac- 
quiesce in the profound repose of nature. The formidable 
eighteen-pounders slept in the embrasures of the wooden 
batteries, seemingly gathering fresh strength to fight the bat- 
tles of their country on the next fourth of July — the soli- 
tary drum on Governor's Island forgot to call the garrison 
to their shovels — the evenuig gun had not yet sounded its 
signal for all the regular, well-meaning poultry throughout 
the country to go to roost; and the fleet of canoes, at an- 
chor between Gibbet Island and Communipaw, slumbered 
on their rakes, and suffered the innocent oysters to lie for a 
while unmolested in the soft mud of their native bank I— My 
own feelings sympathized with the contagious tranquillity, 
and I should infallibly have dozed upon one of those fragments 
of benches, which our benevolent magistrates have provided 
for the benefit of convalescent loungers, had not the extraordi- 
nary inconvenience of the couch set all repose at defiance. 

In the midst of this slumber of the soul, my attention was 
attracted to a black speck, peering above the western horizon, 
just in the rear of Bergen steeple— gradually it augments, and 
overhangs the would-be cities of Jersey, Harsimus, and Hobo- 
ken, which, like three jockeys, are starting on the course of 
existence, and jostling each other at the commencement of the 
race. Now it skirts the long shore of ancient Pavonia, spread- 
ing its wide shadows from the high settlements at Weehawk 
quite to the lazaretto and quarantine, erected by the sagacity 
of our police for the embarrassment of commerce — now it 
climbs the serene vault of heaven, cloud rolling over cloud, 
shrouding the orb of day, darkening the vast expanse, and 
bearing thunder and hail and tempest in its bosom. The earth 
seems agitated at the confusion of the heavens — the late wave- 
less mirror is lashed into furious waves, that roll in hollow 
murmurs to the shore — the oyster-boats that erst sported in. 
the placid vicinity of Gibbet Island, now hurry affrighted to 



A HISTORY OF NEW- TORE. 117 

the land—the poplar writhes and twists and whistles in the 
blast — torrents of drenching rain and sounding hail deluge the 
Battery- walks —the gates are thronged by apprentices, servant- 
maids, and little Frenchmen, with pocket-handkerchiefs over 
their hats, scampering from the storm — the late beauteous 
prospect presen'jS one scene of anarchy and wild uproar, as 
though old Chaos had resumed his reign, and was hurling back 
into one vast turmoil the conflicting elements of nature. 

Whether I fled from the fury of the storm, or remained 
boldly at my post, as our gallant train-band captains who 
march their soldiers through the rain without flinching, are 
points which I leave to the conjecture of the reader. It is pos- 
sible he may be a little perplexed also to know the reason why 
I introduced this tremendous tempest to disturb the serenity of 
my work. On this latter point I will gTatuitously instruct his 
ignorance. The panorama view of the Battery was given 
merely to gratify the reader with a correct description of that 
celebrated place, and the parts adjacent— secondly, the storm 
was played off partly to give a Httle bustle and life to this tran- 
quil part of my work, and to keep my drowsy readers from 
falling asleep— and partly to serve as an overture to the tem- 
pestuous times that ai^ about to assail the pacific province of 
Nieuw-Nederlandts — and that overhang the slumbrous admin- 
istration of the renowned Wouter Van TAviller. It is thus the 
experienced playwright puts all the fiddles, the French horns, 
the kettledrums, and trumpets of his orchestra, in requisition, 
to usher in one of those horrible and brimstone uproars called 
melodramas— and it is thus he discharges his thunder, his 
lightning, his rosin, and saltpetre, preparatory to the rising of 
a ghost, or the murdering of a hero. — We will now proceed 
with our history. 

Whatever may be advanced by philosophers to the contrary, 
I am of opinion, that, as to nations, the old maxim, that ' ' hon- 
esty is the best policy," is a sheer and ruinous mistake. It 
might have answered weU enough in the honest times when it 
was made, but in these degenerate days, if a nation pretends 
to rely merely upon the justice of its dealings, it will fare some- 
thing like an honest man among thieves, who, unless he have 
something more than his honesty to depend upon, stands but 
a poor chance of profiting by his company. Such at least was 
the case with the guileless government of the New-Nether- 
lands ; which, like a worthy unsuspicious old burgher, quietly 
settled itself down into the city of New- Amsterdam, as into a 



118 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

snug elbow-chair — and fell into a comfortable nap— while, in 
the meantime, its cunning neighbours stepped in and picked 
its pockets. Thus may we ascribe the connnencement of all 
the woes of this great province, and its magnificent metropolis, 
to the tranquil security, or, to speak more accurately, to the 
unfortunate honesty, of its government. But as I dislike to 
begin an important part of my history towards the end of a 
chapter; and as my readers, like myself, must doubtless be 
exceedingly fatigued with the long walk we have taken, and 
the tempest we have sustained — I hold it meet we shut up the 
book, smoke a pipe, and having thus refreshed our spirits, take 
a fair start in the next chapter. 



CHAPTER VI. 

FAITHFULLY DESCRIBING THE INGENIOUS PEOPLE OF CONNECTICUT 
AND THEREABOUTS— SHOWING, MOREOVER, THE TRUE MEANING 
OF LIBERTY OF CONSCIENCE, AND A CURIOUS DEVICE AMONG 
THESE STURDY BARBARIANS, TO KEEP UP A HARMONY OF INTER- 
COURSE, AND PROMOTE POPULATION. 

That my readers may the more fully comprehend the extent 
of the calamity, at this very moment impending over the 
honest, unsuspecting province of Nieuw-Nederlandts, and its 
dubious governor, it is necessary that I should give some 
account of a horde of strange barbarians, bordering upon the 
eastern frontier. 

Now so it came to pass, that many years previous to the time 
of which we are treating, the sage cabinet of England had 
adopted a certain national creed, a kind of public walk of faith, 
or rather a religious turnpike, in which every loyal subject 
was directed to travel to Zion — taking care to pay the toll- 
gatherers by the way. 

Albeit, a certain shrewd race of men, being very much given 
to indulge their own opinions, on all manner of subjects, (a 
propensity exceedingly offensive to your free governments of 
Europe,) did most presumptuously dare to think for them- 
selves in matters of religion, exercising what they considered a 
natural and unextinguishable right — the liberty of conscience. 

As, however, they possessed that ingenious habit of mind 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YOUK. 119 

which always thinks aloud; which rides cock-a-hoop on the 
tongue, and is forever galloping into other people's ears, it 
naturally followed that their hberty of conscience likewise im- 
plied liberty of sj^eech, which being freely indulged, soon put 
the country in a hubbub, and aroused the pious indignation of 
the vigilant fathers of the church. 

The usual methods ware adopted to reclaim them, that in 
those days were considered so efficacious in bringing back 
stray sheep to the fold ; that is to say, they were coaxed, theyi 
were admonished, they were menaced, they were buffeted — 
line upon line, precept upon precept, lash upon lash, here a 
little and there a great deal, were exhausted without mercy, 
and without success ; until at length the worthy pastors of the 
church, wearied out by their unparalleled stubbornness, were 
driven, in the excess of their tender mercy, to adopt the 
scripture text, and literally "heaped live embers on their 
heads. " 

Nothing, however, could subdue that invincible spirit of 
indei)endence which has ever distinguished this singular race 
of people, so that rather than submit to such horrible tyranny, 
they one and all embarked for the wilderness of America, 
where they might enjoy, unmolested, the inestimable luxury 
of talking. No sooner did they land on this loquacious soil, 
than, as if they had caught the disease from the climate, they 
all lifted up their voices at once, and for the space of one whole 
year did keep up such a joyful clamour, that we are told they 
frightened every bird and beast out of the neighbourhood, and 
so completely dumbfounded certain fish, which abound on 
their coast, that they have been called dumb-fish ever since. 

From this simple circumstance, unimportant as it may seem, 
did first originate that renowned privilege so loudly boasted of 
throughout this country — which is so eloquently exercised in 
newspapers, pamphlets, ward meetings, pot-house committees, 
and congi'essional deliberations — which established the right of 
talking without ideas and without information — of misrepre- 
senting public affairs — of decrying public measures— of aspers- 
ing great characters, and destoying little ones ; in short, that 
grand palladium of our country, the liberty of speech. 

The simple aborigmes of the land for a while contemplated 
these strange folk in utter astonishment, but discovering that 
they wielded harmless though noisy weapons, and were a 
lively, ingenious, good-humoured race of men, they became 
very friendly and sociable, and gave them the name of Yano- 



]9() A UISTORT OF NEW-YORK. 

hies, which in the Mais-Tchusaeg (or Massachusett) language 
signifies silent men— a, waggisli appellation, since shortened 
into the familiar epithet of Yankees, which they retain unto 
the present day. 

True it is, and my fidelity as a historian will not allow me to 
passit over in silence, that the zeal of these good people, to 
maintain their rights and privileges unimpaired, did for a 
while betray them into errors, which it is easier to pardon than 
defend. Having served a regular apprenticeship in the school 
of persecution, it behoved them to show that they had become 
proficients in the art. They accordingly employed their leisure 
hours in banishing, scourging, or hanging divers heretical Pa- 
pists, Quakers, and Anabaptists, for daring to abuse the liberty 
of co7iscience : which they now clearly proved to imply noth- 
ing more than that every man should think as he pleased in 
matters of TQli^on— provided he thought right ; for otherwise 
it would be giving a latitude to damnable heresies. Now as 
they (the majority) were perfectly convinced that they alone 
thought right, it consequently followed, that whoever thought 
different from them thought wrong— and whoever thought 
wrong, and obstinately persisted in not being convinced and 
converted, was a flagrant violator of the inestimable hberty of 
conscience, and a corrupt and infectious member of the body 
politic, and deserved to be lopped off and cast into the fire. 

Now I'll warrant there are hosts of my readers ready at once 
to lift up their hands and eyes, with that virtuous indignation 
with which we always contemplate the faults and errors of our 
neighbours, and to exclaim at these well-meaning, but mistaken 
people, for inflicting on others the injuries they had suffered 
themselves— for indulging the preposterous idea of convincing 
the mind by tormenting the body, and establishing the doc- 
trine of charity and forbearance by intolerant persecution. 
But, in simple truth, what are we doing at this very day, and 
in this very enlightened nation, but acting upon the very same 
principle, in our political controversies? Have we not, within 
but a few years, released ourselves from the shackles of a gov- 
ernment which cruelly denied us the privilege of governing our- 
selves, and using in full latitude that invaluable member, the 
tongue? and are we not at this very moment striving our best 
to tyrannize over the opinions, tie up the tongues, or ruin the 
fortunes of one another? What are our great political societies, 
but mere political inquisitions— our pot-house committees, but 
iittle tribunals of denunciation — our newspapers, but mere 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORE. 121 

whipping-posts and pillories, where unfortunate individuals are 
pelted with rotten eggs — and our council of appointment, but 
a grand auto da fe, where culprits are annually sacrificed for 
their pohtical heresies? 

Where, then, is the difference in principle between our mea- 
sures and those you are so ready to condemn among the people 
I am treating of? There is none; the difference is merely cir- 
cumstantial. Thus we denounce, instead of banishing — we 
libel, instead of scourging — we turn out of office, instead of 
hanging— and where they burnt an offender m.x)ropria persona, 
we either tar and feather or hum Mm in effigy — this pohtical 
persecution being, somehow or other, the grand palladium of 
our hr^rties, and an incontrovertible proof that this is a free 
country ! 

But notwithstanding the fervent zeal with which this holy 
war was prosecuted against the whole race of unbelievers, we 
do not find that the population of this new colony was in any 
wise hindered thereby ; on the contrary, they multiplied to a 
degree which would be incredible to any man unacquainted 
with the marvellous fecundity of this growing country. 

This amazing increase may, indeed, be partly ascribed to a 
singular custom prevalent among them, commonly known by 
the name of bundling — a superstitious rite observed by the 
young people of both sexes, with which they usually termi- 
nated their festivities ; and which was kept up with religious 
strictness by the more bigoted and vulgar part of the commu- 
nity. This ceremony was likewise, in those primitive times, 
considered as an indispensable preliminary to matrimony; 
their courtships commencing where ours usually finish — by 
which means they acquired that intimate acquaintance with 
each other's good qualities before marriage, which has been 
pronounced by philosophers the sure basis of a happy union. 
Thus early did this cunning and ingenious people display a 
shrewdness at making a bargain, which has ever since distin- 
guished them— and a strict adherence to the good old vulgar 
maxim about "buying a pig in a poke." 

To this sagacious custom, therefore, do I chiefly attribute 
the unparalleled increase of the Yanokie or Yankee tribe ; for 
it is a certain fact, well authenticated by court records and 
parish registers, that wherever the practice of bundling pre- 
vailed, there was an amazing number of sturdy brats annually 
born unto the State, without the hcense of the law, or the bene^ 
fit of clergy. Neither did the irregularity of their birth oper- 



122 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 

ate in the least to their disparagement. On the contrary, they 
grew up a long-sided, raw-boned, hardy race of whoreson 
whalers, wood-cutters, fishermen, and peddlers, and strapping 
cornf ed wenches ; who by their united efforts tended marvel- 
lously towards populating those notable tracts of country 
called Nantucket, Piscataway, and Cape Cod. 



CHAPTER VII. 



HOW THESE SINGULAR BARBARIANS TURNED OUT TO BE NOTO- 
RIOUS SQUATTERS — HOW THEY BUILT AIR CASTLES, AND AT- 
TEMPTED TO INITIATE THE NEDERLANDERS IN THE MYSTERY 
OF BUNDLING. 

In the last chapter I have given a faithful and unpreju- 
diced account of the origin of that singular race of people, in- 
habiting the country eastward of the Nieuw-Nederlandts ; but 
I have yet to mention certain peculiar habits which rendered 
them exceedingly obnoxious to our ever-honoured Dutch an- 
cestors. 

The most prominent of these was a certain rambling pro- 
pensity, with which, like the sons of Ishmael, they seem to 
have been gifted by Heaven, and which continually goads 
them on, to shift their residence from place to place, so that 
a Yankee farmer is in a constant state of migration ; tarrying 
occasionally here and there; clearing lands for other people 
to enjoy, biiilding houses for others to inhabit, and in a man- 
ner may be considered the wandering Arab of America. 

His first thought, on coming to the years of manhood, is to 
settle himself in the world— which means nothing more nor 
less than to begin his rambles. To this end he takes unto 
himself for a wife some buxom country heiress, passing rich 
in red ribands, glass beads, and mock tortoise-shell combs, 
with a white gown and morocco shoes for Sunday, and deeply 
skilled in the mystery of making apple sweetmeats, long 
sauce, and pumpkin pie. 

Having thus provided himself, like a peddler, with a heavy 
knapsack, wherewith to regale his shoulders through the jour- 
ney of life, he literally sets out on the peregrination. His 
whole family, household furniture, and farming utensils, are 



A HISTORY OF NJ^JW-YOEE. 123 

hoisted into a covered cart ; his own and his wife's wardrobe 
packed up in a firkin — which done, he shoulders his axe, takes 
staff in hand, whistles " Yankee Doodle, " and trudges off to the 
woods, as confident of the protection of Providence, and rely- 
ing as cheerfully upon his own resources, as did ever a patri- 
arch of yore, when he journeyed into a strange country of the 
Gentiles. Having buried himself in the wilderness, he builds 
himself a log hut, clears away a corn-field and potato-patch 
and, Providence smiling upon his labours, is soon surrounde(3 
by a snug farm and some half a score of fiaxen-headed ur 
chins, who, by their size, seem to have sprung all at once out 
of the earth, like a crop of toad-stools. 

But it is not the nature of this most indefatigable of specu 
lators to rest contented with any state of sublunary enjoy 
ment — improvement is his darhng passion, and having thu 
improved his lands, the next care is to provide a mansioit 
worthy the residence of a landholder. A huge palace of pine 
boards mi mediately springs up in the midst of the wilder- 
ness, large enough for a parish church, and furnished with 
windows of all dimensions, but so rickety and flimsy withal, 
that every blast gives it a fit of the ague. 

By the time the outside of this mighty air castle is completed, 
either the funds or the zeal of our adventurer are exhausted, so 
that he barely manages to half finish one room within, where 
the whole family burrow together — while the rest of the house 
is devoted to the curing ot* pumpkins, or storing of carrots and 
potatoes, and is decorated with fanciful festoons of dried apples 
and peaches. The outside remaining unpainted, grows venei'a- 
bly black with time; the family wardrobe is laid under contri- 
bution for old hats, petticoats, and breeches, to stuff into the 
broken windows, while the four winds of heaven keep up a 
whistling and howling about this aerial palace, and play as 
many unruly gambols, as they did of yore in the cave of old 
^olus. 

The humble log hut, which whilome nestled this improving 
family snugly within its narrow but comfortable walls, stands 
hard by, in ignominious contrast, degraded into a cow-house 
or pig-sty ; and the whole scene reminds one forcibly of a fable, 
which I am surprised has never been recorded, of an aspiring 
snail, who abandoned his humble habitation, which he had 
long filled with great respectability, to crawl into the empty 
shell of a lobster — where he would no doubt have resided 
with great style and splendour, the envy and hate of all the 



124 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

pains-taking snails in his neighbourhood, had he not acciden* 
tally perished with cold, in one corner of his stupendous man- 
sion. 

Being thus completely settled, and, to use his own words, 
"to rights," one would imagine that he would begin to enjoy 
the comforts of his situation, to read newspapers, talk politics, 
neglect his own business, and attend to the affairs of the na- 
tion, like a useful and patriotic citizen ; but now it is that his 
wayward disposition begins again to operate. He soon grows 
tired of a spot where there is no longer any room for improve- 
ment — sells his farm, air castle, petticoat windows and all, re- 
loads his cart, shoulders his axe, puts himself at the head of 
his family, and wanders away in search of new lands — again 
to fell trees— again to clear corn-fields — again to build a shin- 
gle palace, and again to sell off and wander. 

Such were the people of Connecticut, who bordered upon the 
eastern frontier of Nieuw-Nederlandts; and my readers may 
easily imagine what obnoxious neighbours this light-hearted 
but restless tribe must have been to our tranquil progenitors. 
If they cannot, I would ask them, if they have ever known one 
of our regular, well-organized Dutch famiUes, whom it hath 
pleased Heaven to afflict with the neighbourhood of a French 
boarding-house? The honest old burgher cannot take his after- 
noon's pipe on the bench before his door, but he is persecuted 
with the scraping of fiddles, the chattering of women, and the 
squalling of children— he cannot sleep at night for the horrible 
melodies of some amateur, who chooses to serenade the moon, 
and display his terrible proficiency in execution, on the clario- 
net, the haut-boy, or some other soft -toned instrument — nor 
can he leave the street-door open, but his house is defiled by 
the unsavoury visits of a troop of pug dogs, who even some- 
times carry their loathsome ravages into the sanctum sanc- 
torum, the parlour ! 

If my readers have ever witnessed the sufferings of such 
a family, so situated, they may form some idea how our 
worthy ancestors were distressed by their mercurial neigh- 
bours of Connecticut. 

Gangs of these marauders, we are told, penetrated into the 
New-Netherland settlements, and threw whole villages into 
consternation by their unparalleled volubility, and their in- 
tolerable inquisitiveness — two evil habits hitherto unknown 
in those parts, or only known to be abhorred ; for our ances- 
tors were noted as being men of truly Spartan taciturnity, 



A HISTORY OF NEW YORK. 125 

and who neither knew nor cared aught about any body's 
concerns but their own. Many enormities were conunitted 
on the liighways, where several unoffending burghers were 
brought to a stand, and tortured with questions and guesses, 
which outrages occasioned as much vexation and heart' 
bm-ning as does the modern right of search on the high seas. 

Great jealousy did they Hkewise stir up, by their intermed- 
dhng and successes among the divine sex ; for being a race of 
brisk, likely, pleasant-tongued varlets, they soon seduced the 
light affections of the simple damsels from their ponderous 
Dutch gallants. Among other hideous customs, they attempted 
to introduce among them that of bundling, which the Dutch 
lasses of the Nederlandts, with that eager passion for novelty 
and foreign fashions natural to their sex, seemed very well in- 
clined to follow, but that their mothers, being more experienced 
in the worl^ and better acquainted with men and things, 
strenuously discountenanced all such outlandish innovations. 

But what chiefly operated to embroil our ancestors with 
these strange folk, was an unwarrantable liberty which they 
occasionally took of entering in hordes into the territories of 
the New-Netherlands, and setthng themselves down, without 
leave or license, to improve the land, in the manner I have be- 
fore noticed. This unceremonious mode of taking possession of 
neiv land was technically termed sqicatting, and hence is 
derived the appellation of squatters ; a name odious in the ears 
of all great landholders, and which is given to those enterprising 
worthies who seize upon land first, and take their chance to 
make good their title to it afterwards. 

All these grievances, and many others which were constantly 
accumulating, tended to form that dark and portentous cloud, 
which, as I observed in a former chapter, was slowly gathering 
over the tranquil province of New-Netherlands. The pacific 
cabinet of Van T wilier, however, as will be perceived in the 
sequel, bore them all with a magnanimity that redounds to 
their immortal credit — becoming by passive endurance inu^red 
to this increasing mass of wrongs ; Hke that mighty man of 
old, who by dint of carrying about a calf from the time it was 
bom, continued to carry it without difficulty when it had gr(Jwn 
to be an ox. 



126 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

HOW THE FORT GOED HOOP WAS FEARFULLY BELEAGUERED-^ 
HOW THE RENOWNED WOUTER FELL INTO A PROFOUND DOUBT, 
AND HOW HE FINALT.Y EVAPORATED. 

By this time my readers must fully perceive what an arduous 
task I have undertaken — collecting and collating, with painful 
minuteness, the chronicles of past times, whose events almost 
defy the pov/ers of research— exploring a little kind of Hercula- 
neum of history, which had lain nearly for ages buried under 
the rubbish of years, and almost totally forgotten — raking up 
the limbs and fragments of disjointed facts, and endeavouring 
to put them scrupulously together, so as to restore them to 
their original form and connexion— now lugging forth the 
character of an almost forgotten hero, Hke a mutilated statue 
— now deciphering a half -defaced inscription, and now lighting 
upon a mouldering manuscript, which, after painful study, 
scarce repays the trouble of perusal. 

In such case, how much has the reader to depend upon the 
honour and probity of his author, lest, like a cunning anti- 
quarian, he either impose upon him some spurious fabrication 
of his own, for a precious relic from antiquity— or else dress up 
the dismembered fragment with such false trappings, that it is 
scarcely possible to distinguish the truth from the fiction with 
which it is enveloped ! This is a grievance which I have more 
than once had to lament, in the course of my wearisome re- 
searches among the works of my feUow-historians, who have 
strangely disguised and distorted the facts respecting tliis 
country; and particularly respecting the great province of 
New-Netherlands ; as wiU be perceived by any who wiU take 
the trouble to compare their romantic effusions, tricked out in 
the meretricious gauds of fable, v,^ith this authentic history. 

I have had more vexations of this kind to encounter, in those 
parts of my history ^srhich treat of the transactions on the 
eastern border, than in any other, in consequence of the troops 
of historians who have infested those quarters, and have shown 
the honest people of Nieuw-Nederlandts no mercy in their 
works. Among the rest, Mr. Benjamin Trumbull arrogantly 
declares, that " the Dutch were always mere intruders." Now 
to this I shall make no other reply than to proceed in the 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 127 

steady narration of my history, which will contain not only 
proofs that the Dutch had clear title and possession in the fair 
valleys of the Connecticut, and that they were wrongfully dis- 
possessed thereof— but likewise, that they have been scandal- 
ously maltreated ever since by the misrepresentations of the 
crafty historians of New-England. And in this I shall be 
guided by a spirit of truth and impartiality, and a regard to 
inunortal fame— for I would not wittingly dishonour my work 
by a single falsehood, misrepresentation, or prejudice, though 
it should gain our forefathers the whole country of New-Eng- 
land. 

It was at an early period of the province, and previous to the 
arrival of the renowned Wouter, that the cabinet of Nieuw- 
Nederlandts purchased the lands about the Connecticut, and 
established, for their superintendence and protection, a fortified 
post on the banks of the river, which was called Fort Goed 
Hoop, and was situated hard by the present fair city of Hart- 
ford. The command of this important post, together with the 
rank, title, and appointment of commissary, were given in 
charge to the gallant Jacobus Van Curlet, or, as some liistorians 
mil have it. Van Curlis — a most doughty soldier, of that 
stomachful class of which we have such numbers on parade 
days— who are famous for eating all they kill. He was of a 
very soldierlike appearance, and would have been an exceeding 
tall man had his legs been in proportion to his body ; but the 
latter being long, and the former uncommonly short, it gave 
him the uncouth appearance of a tall man's body mounted upon 
a little man's legs. He made up for this turnspit construction 
of body by throwing his legs to such an extent when he 
marched, that you would have sworn he had on the identical 
seven-league boots of the far-famed Jack the giant-killer ; and so 
astonishingly high did he tread, on any great military occasion, 
that his soldiers were ofttimes alamied, lest he should trample 
himself underfoot. 

But notwithstanding the erection of this fort, and the ap- 
pointment of this ugly little man of war as a commander, the 
intrepid Yankees continued those daring interlopings, which I 
have hinted at in my lasl chapter ; and taking advantage of 
the character which the cabinet of Wouter Van Twiller soon 
acquired, for profound and phlegmatic tranquiUity— did auda- 
ciously invade the territories of the Nieuw-Nederlandts, and 
squat themselves down within the very jurisdiction of Fort 
Goed Hoop. 



128 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 

On beholding this outrage, the long-bodied Van Curlet pro- 
ceeded as became a prompt and valiant officer. He imme^ 
diately protested against these unwarrantable encroachments, 
in Low Dutch, by way of inspiring more terror, and forthwith 
despatched a copy of the protest to the governor at New- Amster- 
dam, together with a long and bitter account of the aggressions 
of the enemy. This done, he ordered men, one and all, to be ot 
good cheer — shut the gate of the fort, smoked three pipes, went 
to bed, and awaited the result with a resolute and intrepid 
tranquillity that greatly animated his adherents, and no doubt 
struck sore dismay and affright into the hearts of the enemy. 

Now it came to pass, that about this time the renowned 
Wouter Van Twiller, full of years and honours, and council 
dinners, had reached that period of life and faculty which, 
according to the great Gulliver, entitles a man to admission 
into the ancient order of Struldbruggs. He employed his time 
in smoking his Turkish pipe, amid an assembly of sages equally 
enlightened and nearly as venerable as himself, and Avho, for 
their silence, their gravity, their wisdom, and their cautious 
averseness to coming to any conclusion in business, are only to 
be equalled by certain profound corporations which I have 
known in my time. Upon reading the protest of the gallant 
Jacobus Van Curlet, therefore, his excellency fell straightway 
into one of the deepest doubts that ever he was known to en- 
counter; his capacious head gradually drooped on his chest, he 
closed his eyes, and inclined liis ear to one side, as if listening 
with great attention to the discussion that was going on in his 
belly ; which all who knew him declared to be the huge court- 
house or council chamber of his thoughts ; forming to his head 
what the House of Eepresentatives do to the Senate. An in- 
articulate sound, very much resembling a snore, occasionally 
escaped him — ^but the nature of this internal cogitation was 
never known, as he never opened his lips on the subject to 
man, woman, or child. In the meantime, the protest of Van 
Curlet lay quietly on the table, where it served to light the 
pipes of the venerable sages assembled in council ; and in the 
great smoke which they raised, the gallant Jacobus, his pro- 
test, and his mighty Fort Goed Hoop, were soon as completely 
beclouded and forgotten as is a question of emergency swal- 
lowed up in the speeches and resolution of a modern session of 
Congress. 

There are certain emergencies when your profound legisla- 
tors and sage deliberative councils are mightily in the way of a 



A BISTORT OF NEW- YORK. V>^ 

nation ; and when an ounce of hare-brained decision is worth a 
pound of sage doubt and cautious discussion. Such, at least, 
was the case at present ; for while the renowned Wouter Van 
Twiller was daily battling with his doubts, and his resolution 
growing weaker and weaker in the contest, the enemy pushed 
farther and farther into his territories, and assumed a most 
formidable appearance in the neighbourhood of Fort Goed 
Hoop. Here they founded the mighty town of Piquag, or, as 
it has since been called, Weather sfield, a place which, if we 
may credit the assertion of that worthy historian, John Josse- 
lyn, Gent., "hath been infamous by reason of the witches 
therein." And so daring did these men of Piquag become, that 
they extended those plantations of onions, for which their 
town is illustrious, under the very noses of the garrison of 
Fort Goed Hoop — insomuch that the honest Dutchmen could 
not look toward that quarter without tears in their eyes. 

This crying injustice was regarded with proper indignation 
by the gallant Jacobus Van Curlet. He absolutely trembled 
with the amazing violence of his choler, and the exacerbations 
of his valour ; which seemed to be the more turbulent in their 
workings, from the length of the body in which they were 
agitated. He forthwith proceeded to strengthen his redoubts, 
heig?iten his breastworks, deepen his fosse, and fortify his 
position with a double row of abattis ; after which valiant pre- 
cautions, he despatched a fresh courier with tremendous 
accounts of his perilous situation. 

The courier chosen to bear these alarming despatches was a 
fat, oily little man, as being least liable to be worn out, or to 
lose leather on the journey ; and to insure his speed, he was 
mounted on the fleetest wagon-horse in the garrison, remark- 
able for his length of hmb, largeness of bone, and hardness of 
trot ; and so tall, that the httle messenger was obliged to climb 
on his back by means of his tail and crupper. Such extraordi- 
nary speed did he make, that he arrived at Fort Amsterdam 
in httle less than a month, though the distance was full two 
hundred pipes, or about a hundred and twenty miles. 

The extraordinary appearance of this portentous stranger 
would have thrown the whole town of New- Amsterdam into a 
quandary, had the good people troubled themselves about any 
thing more than their domestic affairs. With an appearance 
of gi-eat hurry and business, and smoking a short travellmg 
pipe, he proceeded on a long swing trot through the muddy 
lanes of the metropohs, demolisliing whole batches of dirt pies^ 



130 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 

which the little Dutch children were making in the road ; and 
for which kind of pastry the children of this city have ever 
been famous. On arriving at the governor's house, he climbed 
down from his steed in great trepidation; roused the gray- 
headed door-keeper, old Skaats, who, like his lineal descendant 
and faithful representative, the venerable crier of our court, 
was nodding at his post — rattled at the door of the council 
chamber, and startled the members as they were dozing over a 
plan for establishing a public market. 

At that very moment a gentle grunt, or rather a deep-drawn 
snore, was heard from the chair of the governor ; a whiff of 
smoke was at the same instant observed to escape from his 
lips, and a light cloud to ascend from the bowl of his pipe. 
The council of course supposed him engaged in deep sleep for 
the good of the community, and, according to custom in all 
such cases established, every man bawled out silence, in order 
to maintain tranquillity ; when, of a sudden, the door flew 
open, and the little courier straddled into the apartment, cased 
to the middle in a pair of Hessian boots, which he hsd got into 
for the sake of expedition. In his right hand he held forth the 
ominous despatches, and with his left he grasped firmly the 
waistband of his galligaskins, which had unfortunately given 
way, in the exertion of descending from his horse. He 
stumped resolutely up to the governor, and with more hurry 
than perspicuity, delivered his message. But fortunately his 
ill tidings came too late to ruffle the tranquillity of this most 
tranquil of rulers. His venerable excellency had just breathed 
and smoked his last — his lungs and his pipe having been ex- 
hausted together, and his peaceful soul having escaped in the 
last whiff that curled from his tobacco-pipe. In a word, the 
renowned Walter the Doubter, who had so often slumbered 
with his contemporaries, now slept with his fathers, and Wil- 
hehnus Kieft governed in his stead. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK 131 



BOOK IV. 

CONTAINING THE CHRONICLES OF THE REIGN OF 
WILLIAM THE TESTY. 



CHAPTER I. 

SHOWING THE NATURE OF HISTORY IN GENERAL; CONTAINING 
FURTHERMORE THE UNIVERSAL ACQUIREMENTS OF WILLIAM 
THE TESTY, AND HOW A MAN MAY LEARN SO MUCH AS TO 
RENDER HIMSELF GOOD FOR NOTHING. 

When the lofty Thucydides is about to enter upon his de- 
scription of the plague that desolated Athens, one of his mod- 
ern commentators assures the reader, that the history is now- 
going to be exceeding solemn, serious, and pathetic ; and hints, 
with that air of chuckling gratulation with which a good dame 
draws forth a choice morsel from a cupboard to regale a 
favourite, that this plague will give his history a most agree- 
able variety. 

In Hke manner did my heart leap within me, when I came 
to the dolorous dilemma of Fort Good Hope, which I at once 
perceived to be the forerunner of a series of great events and 
entertainmg disasters. Such are the true subjects for the his- 
toric pen. For what is history, in fact, but a kind of Newgate 
calendar, a register of the crimes and miseries that man has 
inflicted on his fellow-man? It is a huge libel on human na- 
ture, to which we industriously add page after page, volume 
after voliune, as if we were building up a monument to the 
honour, rather than the infamy of our species. If we turn 
over the pages of these chronicles that man has written of hun- 
self , what are the characters dignified by the appellation of 
great, and held up to the admiration of posterity? Tyrants, 
robbers, conquerors, renowned only for the magnitude of their 
misdeeds, and the stupendous wrongs and miseries they have 
inflicted on mankind — ^warriors, who have hired themselves to 



132 ^ IIISTOUY OF JVEW-YORK. 

tho trade of blood, not from motwes of virtuous patriotism, or 
to protect the injured and defenceless, but merely to gain the 
vaunted glory of being adroit and successful in massacring 
their fellow-beings ! What are the great events that consti- 
tute a glorious era?— The fall of empires — the desolation of 
happy countries — splendid cities smoking in their ruins— the 
proudest works of art tumbled in the dust — the shrieks and 
groans of whole nations ascending unto heaven ! 

It is thus that historians may be said to thrive on the mise- 
ries of manldnd, like birds of prey that hover over the field 
of battle, to fatten on the mighty dead. It was observed by a 
great projector of inland lock-navigation, that rivers, lakes, 
and oceans were only formed to feed canals. In like manner 
I am tempted to believe that plots, conspiracies, wars, victo- 
ries, and massacres are ordained by Providence only as food 
for the historian. 

It is a source of great delight to the philosopher in studying 
the wonderful economy of nature, to trace the mutual depen- 
dencies of things, how they are created reciprocally for each 
other and how the most noxious and apparently unnecessary 
animal has its uses. Thus those swarms of flies, which are so 
often execrated as useless vermin, are^ created for the suste- 
nance of spiders — and spiders, on the other hand, are evidently 
made to devour flies. So those heroes who have been such 
scourges to the world were bounteously provided as themes for 
the poet and the historian, while the poet and the historian 
were destined to record the achievements of heroes ! 

These, and many similar reflections, naturally arose in my 
mind, as I took up my pen to commence the reign of William 
Kieft : for now the stream of our history, which hitherto has 
rolled in a tranquil current, is about to depai't for ever from its 
peaceful haunts, and brawl through many a turbulent and 
rugged scene. Like some sleek ox, which, having fed and fat- 
tened in a rich clover-field, lies sunk in luxurious repose, and 
will bear repeated taunts and blows, before it heaves its un- 
wieldy limbs and clumsily arouses from its slumbers ; so the 
province of the Nieuw-Nederlandts, having long thrived and 
grown corpulent, under the prosperous reign of the Doubter, 
was reluctantly awakened to a melancholy conviction, that, 
by patient sufferance, its ginevances had become so numerous 
and aggravating, that it was preferable to repel than endure 
them. The reader will now witness the manner in which a 
peaceful community advances towards a state of war ; which it 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK 133 

is too apt to approaeh, as a horse does a drum, with rauch 
prancing and parade, but with Httle progress— and too often 
with the wrong end foremost. 

WiLHELMUS KiEFT, who, in 1634, ascended the gubernatorial 
chair, (to borrow a favourite, though clumsy appellation of 
modern phraseologists,) was in form feature, and character, 
the very reverse of Wouter Van Twiller, his renowned pre- 
decessor. He was of very respectable 'descent, his father 
being Inspector of Wuidmills in the ancient town of Saardam ; 
and our hero, we are t^Jd, made very curious investigations 
into the nature and operations of those machines when a boy, 
which is one reason why he afterwards came to be so ingeni- 
ous a governor. His name, according to the most ingenious 
etymologists, was a corruption of Kyver^ that is to say, wrang- 
ler ov scoZcZer, and expressed the hereditary disposition of his 
family ; which for nearly two centuries had kept the windy 
town of Saardam in hot water, and produced more tartars and 
brimstones than any ten families in the place — and so truly 
did Wilhelmus Kieft inherit this family endowment, that he 
had scarcely been a year in the discharge of his govermnent, 
before he was universally known by the appellation of Wil- 
liam THE Testy. 

He was a brisk, waspish, little old gentleman, who had dried 
and withered away, partly through the natural process of 
years, and partly from being parched and burnt up by his 
fiery soul; which blazed like a vehement rushlight in his 
bosom, constantly inciting him to most valorous broils, alter- 
cations, and misadventures. I have heard it observed by a 
profound and philosophical judge of human nature, that if a 
woman waxes fat as she grows old, the tenure of her hfe is 
very precarious, but if haply she withers, she lives for ever — 
such likewise was the case with William the Testy, who grew 
tougher in proportion as he dried. He was some such a little 
Dutchman as we may now and then see stumping briskly 
about the streets of our city, in a broad-skirted coat, with huge 
buttons, and old-fashioned cocked-hat stuck on the back of 
his head, and a cane as high as his chin. His visage was 
broad, and his features sharp, his nose turned up with the 
most petulant curl ; his cheeks were scorched into a dusky red 
—doubtless in consequence of the neighbourhood of two fierce 
little gray eyes, through which his torrid soul beamed with 
tropical fervour. The corners of his mouth were curiously 
modelled into a kind of fretwork, not a little resembling the 



134 ^ BISTORT OF NEW-TOBK. 

wrinkled proboscis of an irritable pug dog— in a word, lie was 
one of the most positive, restless, ugly little men that ever put 
himseK in a passion about nothing. 

Such were the personal endowments of WiUiam the Testy; 
but it was the sterhng riches of his mind that raised him to 
dignity and power. In his youth he had passed with great 
credit through a celebrated academy at the Hague, noted for 
producing finished scholars with a despatch unequalled, ex- 
cept by certain of our American colleges. Here heskii^mished 
very smartly on the frontiers of se^ral of the sciences, and 
made so gallant an inroad in the dead languages, as to bring 
off captive a host of Greek nouns and Latin verbs, together 
with divers pithy saws and apophthegms, all which he con- 
stantly paraded in conversation and writing, with as much 
vain-glory as would a triumphant general of yore display the 
spoils of the countries he had ravaged. He had, moreover, 
puzzled himself considerably with logic, in which he had ad- 
vanced so far as to attain a very famihar acquaintance, by 
name at least, with the whole family of syllogisms and dilem- 
mas ; but what he chiefly valued himself on, was his know- 
ledge of metaphysics in which, having once upon a time ven- 
tured too deeply, he came well-nigh being smothered in a 
slough of unintelligible learning— a fearful peril, from the 
effects of which he never perfectly recovered. This, I must 
confess, was in some measure a misfortune; for he never 
engaged in argument, of which he was exceeding fond, but 
what, between logical deductions and metaphysical jargon, 
he soon involved himself and his subject in a fog of contra- 
dictions and perplexities, and then would get into a mighty 
passion with his adversary for not being convinced gratis. 

It is in knowledge as in swimming: he who ostentatiously 
sports and flounders on the surface, makes more noise and 
splashing, and attracts more attention, than the industrious 
pearl-diver, who plunges in search of treasures to the bottom. 
The "universal acquirements" of William Kief t were the sub- 
ject of great marvel and admiration among his countrymen- 
he figured about at the Hague with as much vain-glory as does 
a profound Bonze at Pekin, who has mastered half the letters 
of the Chinese alphabet; and, in a word, was unanimously 
pronounced an universal genius!—! have known many univer- 
sal geniuses in my time, though, to speak my mind freely, I 
never knew one, who, for the ordinary purposes of life, was 
worth his weight in straw— but, for the purposes of govera- 



A HISTORY OF JSEW-YORK. I35 

ment, a little sound judg:ment, and plain common sense, is 
worth all the sparkling genius that ever wrote poetry, or in- 
vented theories. 

Strange as it may sound, therefore, the universal acquire- 
ments of the illustrious Wilhehnus were very much in his way ; 
and had he been a less learned man, it is possible he would 
have been a much greater governor. . He was exceedingly fond 
of trying philosophical and political experiments ; and having 
stuffed his head full of scraps and remnants of ancient repub- 
lics, and oligarchies, and aristocracies, and monarchies, and 
the laws of Solon, and Lycurgus, and Charondas, and the im- 
aginary commonwealth of Plato, and the Pandects of Justinian 
and a thousand other fragments of venerable antiquity, he was 
for ever bent upon introducing some one or other of them into 
use ; so that between one contradictory measure and another 
he entangled the government of the little province of Nieuw- 
Nederlandts in more knots, during his administration, than 
half-a-dozen successors could have untied. 

No sooner had this bustling little man been blown by a whiff 
of fortune into the seat of gos^ernment, than he called together 
his council, and delivered a very animated speech on the affairs 
of the province. As every body knows what a glorious oppor- 
tunity a governor, a president, or even an emperor, has, of 
drubbing his enemies in his speeches, messages, and bulletins, 
where he has the talk all on his own side, they may be sure 
the high-mettled William Kieft did not suffer so favourable an 
occasion to escape him, of evincing that gallantry of tongue, 
common to all able legislators. Before he commenced it is re- 
corded that he took out his pocket-handkerchief, and gave a 
very sonorous blast of the nose, according to the usual custom 
of great orators. This, in general, I beheve, is intended as a 
signal trumpet, to call the attention of the auditors, but with 
Wilham the Testy it boasted a more classic cause, for he had 
read of the singular expedient of that famous demagogue 
Caius Gracchus, who, when he harangued the Roman popu- 
lace, modulated liis tones by an oratorical flute or pitchpipe. 

This preparatory symphony being performed, he commenced 
by expressing an humble sense of his own want of talents —his 
utter un worthiness of the honour conferred upon him, and his 
humihatmg incapacity to discharge the important duties of his 
new station— in short, he expressed so contemptible an opinion 
of hunself, that many simple country members present, igno- 
rant that these were mere words of course, always used on 



136 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

such occasions, were very uneasy, and even felt wroth that he 
should accept an office, for which he was consciously so inade- 
quate. 

He then proceeded in a manner highly classic and profoundly 
erudite, though nothing at all to the purpose, being nothing 
more than a pompous account of all the governments of ancient 
Greece, and the wars of Eome and Carthage, together with the 
rise and fall of sundry outlandish empires, about which the 
assembly knew no more than their great-grandchildren yet 
unborn. Thus having, after the manner of your learned ora- 
tors, convinced the audience that he was a man of many words 
and great erudition, he at length came to the less important 
part of his speech, the situation of the province — and here he 
soon worked himself into a fearful rage against the Yankees, 
whom he compared to the Gauls who desolated Rome, and the 
Goths and Vandals who overran the fairest plains of Europe — 
nor did he forget to mention, in terms of adequate opprobrium, 
the insolence with which they had encroached upon the terri- 
tories of New-Netherlands, and the unparalleled audacity with 
which they had commenced the town of New-Plymouth, and 
planted the onion-patches of Weathersfield, under the very 
walls of Fort Goed Hoop. 

Having thus artfully wrought up his tale of terror to a climax, 
he assumed a self-satisfied look, and declared, with a nod ot 
knowing import, that he had taken measures to put a final stop 
to these encroachments— that he had been obliged to have re- 
course to a dreadful engine of warfare, lately invented, awful 
in its effects, but authorized by direful necessity. In a word, 
he was resolved to conquer the Yankees— by proclamation ! 

For this purpose he had prepared a tremendous instrument 
of the kind, ordering, commanding, and enjoining the intruders 
aforesaid, forthwith to remove, depart, and withdraw from the 
districts, regions, and territories aforesaid, under pain of suffer- 
ing all the penalties, forfeitures, and punishments in such case 
made and provided. This proclamation, he assured them, would 
at once exterminate the enemy from the face of the country, 
and he pledged his valour as a governor, that within two 
months after it was published, not one stone should remain on 
another in any of the towns which they had built. 

The council remained for some time silent after he had fin- 
ished; whether struck dumb with admiration at the bril- 
liancy of his project, or put to sleep by the length of his ha- 
rangue, the history of the times does not mention. Suffice 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 137 

it to say, they at length gave a universal grunt of acquiescence 
— the proclamation was immediately despatched with due cere- 
mony, having the great seal of the province, which was about 
the size of a buckwheat pancake, attached to it by a. broad red 
riband. Governor Kieft having thus vented his indignation, 
felt greatly relieved - adjourned the council — put on his cocked 
hat and corduroy small-clothes, and mounting a tall, raw-boned 
charger, trotted out to his country-seat, which was situated in 
.a sweet, sequestered swamp, now called Dutch-street, but more 
commonly known by the name of Dog's Misery. 

Here, like the good Nmna, he reposed from the toils of legis- 
lation, taking lessons in government, not from the nymph 
Egeria, but from the honoured wife of his bosom ; who was one 
of that peculiar kind of females, sent upon earth a little after 
the flood, as a punishment for the sins of mankind, and com- 
monly known by the appellation of knoiving icomen. In fact, 
my duty as a historian obliges me to make known a circum- 
stance wliich was a great secret at the tune, and consequently 
was not a subject of scandal at more than half the tea-tables in 
New- Amsterdam, but which, hke m.any other great secrets, has 
leaked out in the lapse of years— and this was that the great 
Wilhelmus the Testy, though one of the most potent little men 
that ever breathed, yet submitted at home to a species of gov- 
ernment, neither laid down in Aristotle nor Plato ; in short, it 
partook of the nature of a pure, unmixed tyranny, and is 
familiarly denominated petticoat government. An absolute 
sway, which, though exceedingly common in these modern 
days, was very rare among the ancients, if we may judge from 
the rout made about the domestic economy of honest Socrates; 
which is the only ancient case on record. 

The great Kieft, however, warded off all the sneers and sa^^ 
casms of his particular friends, who are ever ready to joke 
with a man on sore points of the kind, by alleging that it was a 
government of his own election, to which he submitted through 
choice ; adding at the same time a profound maxim which he 
had found in an ancient author, that "he who would aspire to 
govern^ should first learn to obey.^^ 



138 ^ HI8T0BT OF HEW- YORE. 



CHAPTER II. 

IN WHICH ARE RECORDED THE SAGE PROJECTS OF A RULER OP 
UNIVERSAL GENIUS — THE ART OF FIGHTING BY PROCLAMATION — ^^ 
AMD HOW THAT THE VALIANT JACOBUS VAN CURLET CAME TO BE 
FOULLY DISHONOURED AT FORT GOED HOOP. 

Never was a more compreliensive, a more expeditious, or, 
what is still better, a more economical measure devised, than 
this of defeating the Yankees by proclamation— an expedient, 
likewise, so humane, so gentle and pacific, there were ten 
chances to one in favour of its succeeding, — ^but then there was 
one chance to ten that it would not succeed — as the ill-natured 
fates would have it, that single chance carried the day ! The 
proclamation was perfect in all its parts, well constructed, well 
written, well sealed, and well published — all that was wanting 
to insure its effect was that the Yankees should stand in awe 
of it ; but, provoking to relate, they treated it with the most 
absolute contempt, applied it to an unseemly purpose, and thus 
did the first warlike proclamation come to a shameful end— a 
fate which I am credibly uif ormed has befaUen but too many 
of its successors. 

It was a long time before Wilhelmus Kieft could be per- 
suaded, by the united efforts of all his counsellors, that his 
war measures had failed in producing any effect. On the con- 
trary, he flew in a passion whenever any one dared to ques- 
tion its efficacy ; and swore that, though it was slow in operat- 
ing, yet when once it began to work, it would soon purge the 
land of these rapacious intruders. Time, however, that test of 
all experiments, both in philosophy and politics, at length con- 
vinced the great Kieft that his proclamation was abortive ; and 
that notwithstanding he had waited nearly four years in a state 
of constant irritation, yet he was still farther off than ever 
from the object of his wishes. His implacable adversaries in 
the east became more and more troublesome in their encroach- 
ments, and founded the thriving colony of Hartford close upon 
the skirts of Fort Goed Hoop. They, moreover, commenced 
the fair settlement of New-Haven (otherwise called the Red 
Hills) within the domains of their High Mightinesses— while 
the onion-patches of Piquag were a continual eyesore to the 
garrison of Van Curlet. Upon beholding, therefore, the in' 



A BISTORT OF NKW-TORK. 139 

efficacy of his measure, the sage Kieft, Kke many a worthy 
practitioner of physic, laid the blame not to the medicine, but 
to the quantity administered, and resolutely resolved to double 
the dose. 

In the year 1638, therefore, that being the fourth year of his 
reign, he fulminated against them a second proclamation, of 
heavier metal than the former ; written in thundering long sen- 
tences, not one word of which was under five syllables. This, 
in fact, was a kind of non-intercourse bill, forbidding and pro- 
hibiting all commerce and connexion between any and every 
of the said Yankee intruders, and the said fortified post of 
Fort Goed Hoop, and ordering, commanding, and advising all 
his trusty, loyal, and well-beloved subjects to furnish them 
with no supplies of gin, gingerbread, or sourkrout; to buy 
none of their pacing horses, measly pork, apple-brandy, Yankee 
rum, cider-water, apple sweetmeats, Weathersfield onions, tin- 
ware, or wooden bowls, but to starve and exterminate them 
from the face of the land. 

Another pause of a twelvemonth ensued, during which this 
proclamation received the same attention and experienced the 
same fal^ as the first. In truth, it was rendered of no avail by 
the heroic spirit of the Nederlanders themselves. No sooner 
were they proliibited the use of Yankee merchandise, than 
it immediately became indispensable to their very existence. 
The men who all their lives had been content to drink gin 
and ride Esopus switch-tails, now swore that it was sheer 
tyranny to deprive them of apple-brandy and Narraghanset 
pacers ; and as to the women, they declared there was no com- 
fort in life without Weathersfield onions, tin kettles, and 
wooden bowls. So they all set to work, with might and main, 
to carry on a smuggling trade over the borders ; and the pro- 
vince was as full as ever of Yankee wares, — with this differ- 
ence, that those who used them had to pay double price, for 
the trouble and risk incurred in breaking the laws. 

A signal benefit arose from these measures of Wilham the 
Testy. The efforts to evade them had a marvellous effect in 
sharpening the intellects of the people. They were no longer 
to be governed without laws, as in the time of Oloffe the 
Dreamer ; nor would the jack-knife and tobacco-box of Walter 
the Doubter have any more served as a judicial process. The 
old Nederlandt maxim, that " honesty is the best policy," was 
scouted as the bane of all ingenious enterprise. To use a mod- 
ern phrase, "a great impulse had been given to the pubhe 



140 ^ EISTOEY OF NEW-YOEK, 

mind ;" and from the time of this first experience in smuggling, 
we may perceive a vast increase in the number, intricacy, and 
severity of laws and statutes— a sure proof of the increasing 
keenness of public intellect. 

A twelvemonth having elapsed since the issuing of the pro- 
clamation, the gallant Jacobus Van Curlet despatched his an- 
nual messenger, with his customary budget of complaints and 
entreaties. Whether the regular interval of a year, interven- 
ing between the arrival of Van Curlet's couriers, v/as occa- 
sioned by the systematic regularity of his movements, or by 
the immense distance at which he was stationed from the seat 
of government, is a matter of uncertainty. Some have ascribed 
it to the slowness of his messengers, who, as I have before 
noticed, were chosen from the shortest and fattest of his garri- 
son, as least likely to be worn out on the road ; and who, being 
pursy, short-winded little men, generally travelled fifteen miles 
a day, and then laid^y a whole week to rest. All these, how- 
ever, are matters of conjecture ; and I rather tliink it may be 
ascribed to the immemorial maxim of this worthy country — 
and which has ever influenced all its public transactions — not 
to do things in a hurry. • 

The gallant Jacobus Van Curlet, in his despatches, respect- 
fully represented that several years had now elapsed since his 
first application to his late excellency, Wouter Van Twiller ; 
during which interval his garrison had been reduced nearly 
one-eighth, by the death of two of his most valiant and corpu- 
lent soldiers, who had accidentally over- eaten themselves on 
some fat salmon, caught in the Varsche river. He further 
stated, that the enemy persisted in their inroads, taking no 
notice of the fort or its inhabitants : but squatting themselves 
down, and forming settlements all around it ; so that, in a lit- 
tle while, he should find himself inclosed and blockaded by 
the enemy, and totally at their mercy. 

But among the most atrocious of his grievances, I find the 
following still on record, which may serve to show the bloody- 
minded outrages of these savage intruders. "In the mean- 
time, they of Hartford have not onely usurped and taken in 
the lands of Connecticott, although unrighteously and against 
the lawes of nations, but have hindered our nation in sowing 
theire own purchased broken up lands, but have also sowed 
them with corne in the night, which the Netherlanders had 
broken up and intended to sowe : and have beaten the servants 
of the high and mighty the honored companie, which Avere 



A UISTORT OF JVJiW-YOEK 141 

labouring upon theire master's lands, from theire lands, with 
sticks and plow staves in hostile manner laming, and among 
the rest, struck Ever Duckings* a hole in his head, with a 
stick, so that the blood ran downe very strongly downe upon 
his body." 

But what is still more atrocious — 

" Those of Hartford sold a hogg, that belonged to the hon- 
ored companie, under pretence that it had eaten of tlieire 
grounde grass, when they had not any foot of inheritance. 
They proffered the hogg for 5s. if the commissioners would 
have given 5s. for damage ; which the commissioners denied, 
because noe man's own hogg (as men used to say) can trespass 
upon his owne master's grounde. "t 

The receipt of this melancholy intelhgence uicensed the 
whole community — there was something in it that spoke to 
the dull comprehension, and touched the obtuse feelings, even 
of the puissant vulgar, who generally require a kick in the 
rear to awaken their slumbering dignity. I have known my 
profound fellow-citizens bear, without murmur, a thousand 
essential infringements of their rights, merely because they 
were not immediately obvious to their senses — ^but the mo- 
ment the unlucky Pearce was shot upon our coasts, the whole 
body pohtic was in a ferment — so the enhghtened Neder- 
landers, though they had treated the encro^.chm&nts of their 
eastern neighbours with but little regard, and left their quill- 
valiant governor to bear the whole brunt of war with his 
single pen — yet now every individual felt his head broken 
in the hroken head of Duckings— and the unhappy fate of their 
fellow-citizen, the hog being impressed, carried and sold into 
captivity, awakened a grunt of sympathy from every bosom. 

The governor and council, goaded by the clamours of the 
multitude, now set themselves earnestly to deliberate upon 
what was to be done. — Proclamations had at length fallen into 
temporary disrepute : some were for sending the Yankees a tri- 
bute, as we make peace-offering to the petty Barbary powers, 
or as the Indians sacrifice to the devil ; others were for buy- 
ing them out, but this was opposed, as it would be acknow- 
ledging their title to the land they had seized. A variety of 



* This name is no doubt misspelt. In some old Dutch MSS. of the time, we find 
the name of Evert Duyckingh, who is unquestionably the unfortunate hero above 
alluded to. 

t Haz. Col. state Papers. 



142 ^ HISTORT OF NEW-TORK. 

measures were, as usual in such cases, produced discuried. 
and abandoned, and the council had at last to adopt the 
raeans, which being the most common and obv'^ous, had been 
knowingly overlooked— for your amazing acute politicians are 
for ever looking through telescopes, which only er-^blr them 
to see such objects as are far off, and unattainable, but which 
yncapacitate them to see such things as are in their reach, and 
obvfous to all simple folks, who are content to look with the 
naked eyes Heaven has given them. The profound council, as 
I have said, in the pursuit after Jack-o'-lanterns, accidentally 
stumbled on the very measure they were in need of : which 
was to raise a body of troops, and despatch them to the relief 
and reenforcement of the garrison. This measure was carried 
into such prompt operation, that in less than twelve months, 
the whole expedition, consisting of a sergeant and twelve men, 
was ready to march; and was reviewed for that' purpose, in 
the public square, now known by the name of the Bowling- 
Green. Just at this juncture, the whole community was 
thrown into consternation, by the sudden arrival of the gal- 
lant Jacobus Van Curlet, who came straggling into town at 
the head of his crew of tatterdemalions, and bringing the 
melancholy tidings of his own defeat, and the capture of the 
redoubtable post of Fort Goed Hoop by the ferocious Yankees. 

The fate of this important fortress is an impressive warning 
to all military commanders. It was neither carried by storm 
nor famine ; no practicable breach was effected by cannon or 
mines; no magazines were blown up by red-hot shot, nor 
were the barracks demolished, or the garrison destroyed, by 
the bursting of bombsheljs. In fact, the place was taken by a 
stratagem no less singular than effectual; and one that can 
never fail of success, whenever an opportunity occurs of put- 
ting it in practice. Happy am I to add, for the credit of our 
illustrious ancestors, that it was a stratagem, which though it 
impeached the vigilance, yet left the bravery of the intrepid 
Van Curlet and his garrison perfectly free from reproach. 

It appears that the crafty Yankees, having heard of the 
regular habits of the garrison, watched a favourable oppor- 
tunity, and silently introduced themselves into the fort, about 
the middle of a sultry day ; when its vigilant defenders, having 
gorged themselves with a hearty dinner, and smoked out their 
pipes, were one and all snoring most obstreperously at their 
posts, little dreaming of so disastrous an occurrence. The 
enemy most inhumanly seized Jacobus Van Curlet and his 



A HIS TOBY OF NEW- YORK. . 143 

sturdy myrmidons by the nape of the neck, gallanted them to 
the gate of the fort, and dismissed them severally, with a kick 
on the crupper, as Charles the Twelfth dismissed the heavy- 
bottomed Russians, after the battle of Narva — only taking care 
to give two kicks to Van Curlet, as a signal mark of distinc- 
tion. 

A strong garrison was immediately estabhshed in the fort, 
consisting of twenty long-sided, hard-fisted Yankees, with 
Weatliersfield onions stuck ia their hats by way of cockades 
and feathers — long rusty fowhng-pieces for muskets — hasty- 
pudding, dumb-fish, pork and molasses, for stores ; and a huge 
pumpkin was hoisted on the end of a pole, as a standai^d — 
liberty caps not having yet come into fashion. 



CHAPTER in. 

CONTAIOTNG THE FEARFUL WRATH OF WILLIAM THE TESTY, AND 
THE GREAT DOLOUR OF THE NEW-AMSTERDAJIERS, BECAUSE OP 
THE AFFAIR OF FORT GOED HOOP — ^AND, MOREOVER, HOW WIL- 
LIAM THE TESTY DID STRONGLY FORTIFY THE CITY — TOGETHER 
WITH THE EXPLOITS OF STOFFEL BRINKERHOFF. 

LAifGUAGE cannot express the prodigious fury into which the 
testy Wilhelmus Kieft was thrown by tliis provoking mtelli- 
gence. For three good hours the rage of the little man was 
too great for words, or rather the words were too great for 
him; and he was nearly choked by some dozen huge, mis- 
shapen, nine-cornered Dutch oaths, that crowded all at once 
into his gullet. Having blazed off the first broadside, he kept 
up a constant firing for three whole days — anathematizing 
the Yankees, man, woman, and child, body and soul, for a set 
of dieven, schobbejakeu, deugenieten, twist-zoekeren, loozen- 
schalken, blaes-kaken, kakken-bedden, and a thousand other 
names, of which, unfortunately for posterity, history does not 
make mention. Finally, he swore that he would have nothing 
more to do with such a squatting, bundlmg, guessing, ques- 
tioning, swapping, pumpkin-eating, molasses-daubing, shmgle- 
sphtting, cider-watenng, horse-jockeymg, notion-peddling 
crew — that they might stay at Fort Goed Hoop and rot, before 
he would dirty hLS hands by attemj^tmg to drive them away; 



144 -'1 ITISTOIIY OF JSEW-YORK. 

in proof of which, he ordered the new-raised troops to be 
marched forthwith into winter-quarters, although it was not 
as yet quite mid-summer. Governor Kieft faithfully kept his 
word, and his adversaries as faithfully kept their post ; and 
thus the glorious river Connecticut, and all the gay valleys 
through which it rolls, together with the salmon, shad, and 
other fish within its waters, fell into the hands of the victo- 
rious Yankees, by whom they are held at this very day. 

Great despondency seized upon the city of New Amsterdam, 
in consequence of these melancholy events. The name of Yan- 
kee became as terrible among our good ancestors as was that 
of Gaul among the ancient Romans; and all the sage old 
women of the province used it as a bugbear, wherewith to 
frighten their unruly children into obedience. 

The eyes of all the province were now turned upon their go- 
vernor, to know what he would do for the protection of the 
common weal, in these days of darkness and peril. Great 
apprehensions prevailed among the reflecting part of the com- 
munity, especially the old women, that these terrible warriors 
of Connecticut, not content with the conquest of Fort Goed 
Hoop, would incontinently march on to New- Amsterdam and 
take it by storm — and as these old ladies, through means of the 
governor's spouse, who, as has been ah*eady hinted, was ' ' the 
better horse," had obtained considerable influence in public 
affairs, keeping the province under a kind of petticoat govern- 
ment, it was determined that measures should be taken for the 
effective fortiflcation of the city. 

Now it happened, that at this time there sojourned in New- 
Amsterdam one Anthony Van Corlear,* a jolly fat Dutch 
trumpeter, of a pleasant burly visage, famous for his long wind 
and his huge whiskers, and who, as the story goes, could twang 
so potently upon his instrument, as to produce an effect upon 
all within hearing, as though ten thousand bag-pipes were sink- 
ing right lustily i' the nose. Him did the illustrious Kieft pick 
out as the man of all the world most fitted to be t^e champion or 
New- Amsterdam, and to garrison its fort ; making little doubt 
but that his instrument would be as effectual an J offensive in 
war as was that of the paladin Astolpho, or the more classic 



* David Pietrez Be Vries, in his " Reyze naer Nieuw-Nederlant onder het year 
1640," makes mention of one Corlear, a trumpeter in Fort Amsterdam, who gave 
name to Corlear's Hook, and who was doubtless this same champion described 
by Mr. Knickerbocker.— Editor. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 145 

horn of Alecto. It would have done one's heart good to have 
seen the governor snapping his fingers and fidgeting with de- 
hght, wliile his sturdy trumpeter strutted up and down the 
ramparts, fearlessly twanging his ^trumpet in the face of the 
whole world, hke a thrice-valorous editor daringly insulting all 
the principahties and powers — on the other side of the Atlantic. 

Nor was he content with thus strongly garrisoning the fort, 
but he likewise added exceedingly to its strength, by furnish- 
ing it with a formidable battery of quaker guns — rearing a stu- 
pendous flag-staff in the centre, which overtopped the whole 
city — ^and, moreover, by building a great windmill on one of the 
bastions.* This last, to be sure, was somewhat of a novelty in 
the art of fortification, but, as I have already observed, William 
Kieft was notorious for innovations and experiments; and tra- 
ditions do afiirm, that he was much given to mechanical inven- 
tions—constructing patent smoke-Jacks — carts that went before 
the horses, and especially erecting windmills, for which ma- 
chines he had acquired a singular predilection in his native 
town of Saardam. 

All these scientific vagaries of the little governor were cried 
up with ecstasy by his adherents, as proofs of his universal 
genius— but there were not wanting ill-natured grumblers, who 
railed at him as employing his mind in frivolous pui'suits,'and 
devoting that time to smoke-jacks and windmills which should 
have been occupied in the more important concerns of the pro- 
vince. Nay, they even went so far as to hint, once or t^vice, 
that his head was turned by his experiments, and that he 
really thought to manage his government as he did his mills — 
by mere wind ! — such are the illiberality and slander to which 
enlightened rulers are ever subject. 

Notwithstanding all the measures, therefore, of William the 
Testy, to place the city in a posture of defence, the inhabitants 
continued in great alarm and despondency. But fortune, who 
seems always careful, in the very nick of time, to throw a bone 
for hope to gnaw upon, that the starveling elf may be kept 
ahve, did about tliis time crown the aims of the province with 
success in another quarter, and thus cheered the drooping 
hearts of the forlorn Nederlanders ; other^vise, there is no 
knowing to what lengths they might have gone in the excess 



* De Vries mentions that this windmill stood on the south-east bastion; and it is 
likewise to be seen, together with the flag-stafE , in Justus Banker's View of New- 
Amsterdam. 



146 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

of their sorrowing — "for grief," says the profound historian 
of the seven champions of Christendom, "is companion with 
despair, and despair a procurer of infamous death !" 

Among the num.erous inroads of the mosstroopers of Con- 
necticut, which for some time past had occasioned such great 
tribulation, I should particularly have mentioned a settlement 
made on the eastern part of Long Island, at a place which, 
from the peculiar excellence of its shell-fish, was called Oyster 
Bay. This was attacking the province in the most sensible 
part, and occasioned great agitation at New-Amsterdam. 

It is an incontrovertible fact, well known to skilful physiolo- 
gists, that the high road to the affections is through the throat ; 
and this may be accounted for on the same principles which I 
have already quoted in my strictures on fat aldermen. Nor is 
the fact miknown to the world at large ; and hence do we ob- 
serve, that the surest way to gain the hearts of the million, is 
to feed them well — ^and that a man is never so disposed to flat- 
ter, to please and serve another, as when he is feeding at his 
expense ; which is one reason why your rich men, who give 
frequent dinners, have such abundance of sincere and faithful 
friends. It is on this principle that our knowing leaders of 
parties secure the affections of their partisans, by rewarding 
them bountifully with loaves and fishes ; and entrap the suf- 
frages of the greasy mob, by treating them with bull feasts and 
roasted oxen. I have known many a man, in this same city, 
acquii^ considerable importance in society, and usurp a large 
share of the good-will of his enlightened fellow-citizens, w^hen 
the only thing that could be said in his eulogium was, that 
*' he gave a good dinner, and kept excellent wine." 

Since, then, the heart and the stomach are so nearly allied, 
it follows conclusively that what affects the one, must sympa- 
thetically affect the other. Now, it is an equally incontro- 
vertible fact, that of all offerings to the stomach, there is none 
more grateful than the testaceous marine animal, known com- 
monly by the vulgar name of Oyster. And in such great rev- 
erence has it ever been held, by my gormandizing fellow-citi- 
zens, that temples have been dedicated to it, time out of mind, 
in every street, lane, and alley throughout this well-fed city. 
It is not to be expected, therefore, that the seizing of Oyster 
Bay, a place aboundmg with their favourite delicacy, would be 
tolerated by the mhabitants of New-Amstei*dam. An attack 
upon their honour they might have ]>ardoned ; even the mas- 
sacre of a few citizens might have been passed over in silence ; 



A HISTORY OF NKW-TORK. 147 

but an outrage that affected the larders of the great city of 
New-Amsterdam, and threatened the stomachs of its corpulent 
burgomasters, was too serious to pass unrevenged, — The whole 
council was ananimous in opinion, that the intruders should 
be unmediately driven by force of arms from Oyster Bay and 
its vicinity, and a detachment was accordingly despatched for 
the purpose, under the command of one Stoffel Brinkerhoff, or 
Brinkerhoofd, {i.e. Stoffel, the head-breaker,) so called because 
he was a man of mighty deeds, famous tlu'oughout the whole 
extent of Nieuw-Nederlandts for his skill at quarter-staff ; and 
for size, he would have been a match for Colbrand, the Danish 
champion, slain by Guy of Warwick. 

Stoffel Brinkerhoff was a man of few words, but prompt 
actions— one of your straight-going officers, who march directly 
forward ; and do their orders without making any parade. He 
used no extraordinary speed in his movements, but trudged 
steadily on, through Nineveh and Babylon, and Jericho and 
Patchog, and the mighty town of Quag, and various other 
renowned cities of yore, wliicli, by some unaccountable witch- 
craft of the Yankees, have been strangely transplanted to 
Long Island, until he arrived in the neighbourhood of Oyster 
Bay. 

Here was he encountered by a tumultuous host of valiant 
warriors, headed by Preserved Fish, and Habakkuk Nutter, 
and Eeturn Strong, and Zerubbabel Fish, and Jonathan Doo- 
httle, and Determined Cock I — at the sound of whose names the 
courageous Stoffel verily believed that the whole parliament 
of Praise-God-Barebones had been let loose to discomfit hun. 
Finding, however, that this formidable body was composed 
merely of the ''select men" of the settlement, armed with no 
other weapon but their tongues, and that they had issued forth 
with no other intent than to meet him on the field of argument 
— he succeeded in putting them to the rout with little diffi- 
culty, and completely broke up their settlement. Without 
w^aiting to write an account of his victory on the spot, and 
thri letting tfie enemy shp through his fingers, while he was 
securing his own laurels, as a more experienced general would 
have done, the brave Stoffel thought of nothing but completing 
his enterprise, and utterly driving the Yankees from the island. 
This hardy enterprise he performed in much the same manner 
as he had been accustomed to drive his oxen ; for as the Yan- 
kees fled before him, he pulled up his breeches and trudged 
steadily after them, and would infalhbly have driven them 



148 ^ ^P3T0RT OF NEW-YORK. 

into the sea, had ^.Jtiej not begged for quarter, and agreed to 
pay tribute. 

The news of this achievement was a seasonable restorative 
to the spu'its of the citizens of New-Amsterdam. To gi^atify 
them stUl more, tne governor resolved to astonish them with 
one of those gorgeous spectacles, known in the days of classic 
antiquity, a full account of which had been flogged into his 
memory, when a school-boy at the Hague. A grand triumph, 
therefore^ was decreed to Stoffel Brinkerhoff. who made his 
triumphant entrance into town nding on a Naraganset pacer ; 
five pumpkms, which, like Roman eagles, had served the 
enemy for standards, were carried before liim— fifty cart loads 
of oysters, five hundred bushels of Weathersfield onions, a hun- 
dred quintals of codfish, two hogsheads of molasses, and vari- 
ous other treasures, were exhibited as the spoils and tribute of 
the Yankees ; while three notorious counterfeiters of Manliat- 
tan notes * were led captive, to grace the hero's triumph. The 
procession was enlivened by martial music from the trumpet 
of Anthony Van Corlear, the champion, accompanied by a 
select band of boys and negroes performing on the national in- 
struments of rftttle-bones and clam-shells. The citizens de- 
voured the spoils in sheer gladness of heart — every man did 
honom' to the conqueror, by getting devoutly drunk on New- 
England rum — and the learned Wilhelmus Kieft, calling to 
mind, in a momentary fit of enthusiasm and generosity, that 
it was customary among the ancients to honour their victo- 
rious generals with pubhc statues, passed a gi-acious decree, by 
which every tavern-keeper was permitted to paint the head of 
the intrepid Stoffel on his sign ! 



* This is one of those trivial anachronisms, that now and then occur in the course 
of this otlierwise authentic history. How could Manhattan notes be couuterfeited. 
when as yet Banks were unknown in this countrj'?— and our simple progt nitors had 
not even dreamt of those inexhaustibl^mines ot paper opulence.— Friht. Dev. 



A HISTORY OF AEW-YOBK. 149 



CHAPTER IV. 

PHILOSOPHICAL REFLECTIONS ON THE FOLLY OF BEING HAPPY 
IN TEMES OF PROSPERITY — SUNT)RY TROUBLES ON THE SOUTH- 
ERN FRONTIERS — HOW WILLIAM THE TESTY HAD WELL NIGH 
RUINTH) THE PROVINCE THROUGH A CABALISTIC WORD— AS ALSO 
THE SECRET EXPEDITION OF JAN JANSEN ALPENDAM, AND HIS 
ASTONISHING REWARD, 

If we could but get a peep at the tally of dame Fortune, 
where, like a notable landlady, she regidarly chalks up the 
debtor and creditor accounts of mankind, we should find that, 
upon the whole, good and evil are pretty near balanced in this 
world ; and that though we may lor a long while revel in the 
very lap of prosi)erity. the time will at length come when we 
must ruefully pay off the reckoning. Fortime. in fact, is a pes- 
tilent shrew, and withal a most inexorable creditor ; for though 
she may indulge her favourites in long credits, and overwhelm 
them with her favours, yet sooner or later she brings up her 
ai^rears with the rigoiu* of an experienced pubhcan, and washes 
out her scores with their tears. "Since," said good old 
Boetius, ' ' no man can retain her at his pleasure, and since her 
fligh. is so deeply lamented, what are her favours but sure 
prognostications of approaching trouble and calamity?" 

There is nothing that more moves my contempt at the stu- 
pidity and want of reflection of my feUow-men, than to behold 
them rejoicing, and indulging in secm*ity and self-confidence, 
in times of prosperity. To a wise man, who is blessed with the 
light of reason, those are the very moments of anxiety and ap- 
prehension; well knowing that according to the system of 
things, happiness is at best but transient — and that the higher 
he is elevated by the capricious breath of fortune, the lower 
must be his proportionate depression. Whereas, he who is 
overwhelmed by calamity, has the less chance of encounter- 
ing fresh disasters, as a man at the bottom of a ladder runs 
rery little risk of breaking his neck by timibhng to the top. 

This is the very essence of true wisdom, which consists in 
knowing when we ought to be miserable ; and was discovered 
much about the same time with that invaluable secret, that 
'• every thing is vanity and vexation of spirit ;" in consequence 
of which maxim, your wise men have ever been the unhappi- 



10(7 ^ BISTORT OF NEW-TORK. 

est of the human race ; esteeming it as an infaUible mark of 
genius to be distressed without reason— since any man may 
be miserable in time of misfortune, but it is the philosopher 
alone who can discover cause for grief in the very hour of 
prosperity. 

According to the principle I have just advanced, we find, that 
the colony of New-Netherlands, which, under the reign of the 
renowned Van Twiller, had flourished in such alarming and 
fatal serenity, is now paying for its former welfare, and dis- 
charging the enormous debt of comfort which it contracted. 
Foes harass it from different quarters; the city of New- Am- 
sterdam, while yet in its infancy, is kept in constant alarm; 
and its valiant commander, William the Testy, answers the 
vulgar, but expressive idea, of " a man in a peck of troubles." 

While busily engaged repelling liis bitter enemies the Yankees 
on one side, we find him suddenly molested in another quarter, 
and by other assailants. A vagrant colony of Swedes, under 
the conduct of Peter Minnewits, and professing allegiance to 
that redoubtable virago, Christina, queen of Sweden, had set- 
tled themselves and erected a fort on South (or Delaware) 
River — within the boundaries claimed by the government of 
the New-Netherlands. History is mute as to the particulars of 
their first landing, and their real pretensions to the soil ; and 
this is the more to be lamented, as this same colony of Swedes 
will hereafter be found most materially to affect not only the 
Interests of the Nederlanders, but of the world at large ! 

In whatever manner, therefore, this vagabond colony of 
Swedes first took possession of the country, it is certain that in 
1638 they established a fort, and Minnewits, according to the 
off-hand usage of his contemporaries, declared himself governor 
of all the adjacent country, under the name of the province of 
New Sweden. No sooner did this reach the ears of the choleric 
Wilhelmus, than, like a true-spirited cliieftain, he immediately 
broke into a violent rage, and calling together his council, be- 
laboured the Swedes most lustily in the longest speech that had 
ever been heard in the colony, since the memorable dispute of 
Ten Breeches and Tough Breeches. Having thus given vent 
to the first ebullitions of his indignation, he had resort to his 
favourite measure of proclamation, and despatched one, piping 
hot, in the first year of his reign, informing Peter Minnewits 
that the whole territory, bordering on the South river, had, 
time out of mind, been in possession of the Dutch colonists, 
having been " beset with forts, and sealed with their blood." 



A HTSTeRT OF NEW-TOBK. 161 

The latter sanguinary sentence would convey an idea of dire- 
ful war and bloodshed, were we not reheved by the information 
that it merely related to a fray, in which some half-a-dozen 
Dutchmen had been killed by the Indians, in their benevolent 
attempts to establish a colony and promote civilization. B;^ 
this it will be seen, that William Kief t, though a very small man, 
delighted in big expressions, and was much given to a praise- 
worthy figure of rhetoric, generally cultivated by your little 
great men, called hyperbole — a figure which has been found of 
infinite service among many of his class, and which has helped 
to swe41 the grandeur of many a mighty, self-important, but 
windy chief magistrate. Nor can I refrain in this place from 
observing how much my beloved country is indebted to this 
same figure of hyperbole, for supporting certain of her great- 
est characters — statesmen, orators, civilians, and divines ; who, 
by dint of big words, inflated periods, and windy doctrines, 
are .kept afloat on the surface of society, as ignorant swimmers 
are buoyed up by blown bladders. 

The proclama^tion against Minnewits concluded by orderinf; 
the self -dubbed governor, and his gang of Swedish adventurcis, 
immediately to leave the comitry, under penalty of the high 
displeasure and inevitable vengeance of the puissant government 
of the Nieuw-Noderlandts. This "strong measure," however, 
does not seem to have had a whit more effect than its prede- 
cessors which had been thundered against the Yankees — the 
Swedes resolutely held on to the territory they had taken pos- 
session of — whereupon matters for the present remained in 
statu quo. 

That Wilhelmus Kief t should put up with this insolent ob- 
stinacy in the Swedes, woifld appear incompatible with his val- 
orous temperament ; but we find that about this time the httle 
man had his hands fifll, and, what with one annoyance and 
another, was kept continually on the bounce. 

There is a certain description of active legislators, who, by 
shrewd management, cortrive always to have a hundred irons 
on the anvil, every one of which must be immediately attended 
to ; who consequently are ever full of temporary shifts and ex- 
pedients, patching up the public welfare, and cobbhng the na- 
tional affairs, so as to make nine holes whens they mend one- - 
stopping ahinks and fla.ws with whatever comes first to hand, 
like the Yankees I have mentioned, stuffing old clothes in 
broken windows. Of this class of statesmen was Wilham the 
Testy — and had he only been blessed with powers equal to his 



153 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

zeal, or Ms zeal been discipKned by a little discretion, there is 
very little doubt that he would have made the greatest governor 
of his size on record — the renowned governor of the island of 
Barataria alone excepted. 

The great defect of Wilhelmus Kieft's policy was, that 
chough no man could be more ready to stand forth in an hour 
of emergency, yet he was so intent upon guarding the national 
pocket, that he suffered the enemy to break its head — in other 
words, whatever precaution for pubHc safety he adopted, he 
was so intent upon rendering it cheap, that he invariably ren- 
dered it ineffectual. All this was a remote consequence of his 
profound education at the Hague — where, having acquired a 
smattering of knowledge, he was ever after a great Conner of 
indexes, continually dipping into books, without ever studying 
to the bottom of any subject ; so that he had the scum of all 
kinds of authors fermenting in his pericranium. In some of 
these title-page researches, he unluckily stumbled over a grand 
political cahalistic icord, which, with, his customary facihty, 
he immediately incorporated into his great scheme- of govern- 
ment, to the irretrievable injury and delusion of the honest 
province of Nieuw-Nederlandts, and the eternal misleading of 
all experimental rulers. 

In vain have I pored over the theurgia of the Chaldeans, the 
cabala of the Jews, the necromancy of the Arabians, the magic 
of the Persians, the hocus-pocus of the English, the witchcraft 
of the Yankees, or the powwowing of the Indians, to discover 
where the little man first laid eyes on this terrible word. 
Neither the Sephir Jetzirah, that famous cabalistic volume, 
ascribed to the patriarch Abraham ; nor the pages of Zohar, 
containing the mysteries of the cabala, recorded by the learned 
rabbi Simon Sochaides, yield any light to my inquiries — nor 
am I in the least benefited by my painful researches in the 
Shem-ham-phorah of Benjamin, the wandering Jew, though it 
enabled Davidus Elm to make a ten days' journey in twenty- 
four hours. Neither can I perceive the slightest affinity in the 
Tetragrammaton, or sacred name of four letters, the profound- 
est word of the Hebrew cabolpt; a mystery sublime, ineffable, 
and incommunicable — and the letters of which, Jod-He-Vau- 
He, having been stolen by the pagans, constituted their great 
name, Jao or Jove, In short, in all my cabalistic, theurgic, 
necromantic, magical, and astrological researches, from the 
Tetractys of Pythagoras to the recondite works of Breslaw and 
Mother Bunch. I have not discovered the least vestige 0:1; an 



A UISTOUY OF JVEW-YOBK 153 

origin of this word, nor have I discovered any word of suffi- 
cient potency to counteract it. 

Not to keep my reader in any suspense, the word which had 
so wonderfully arrested the attention of William the Testy, 
and which in German characters had a particularly black and 
ominous aspect, on being fairly translated into the EngHsh, is 
no other than economy— a talismanic term, which, by con- 
stant use and frequent mention, has ceased to be formidable in 
our eyes, but which has as terrible potency as any in the 
arcana of necromancy. 

When pronounced in a national assembly, it has an immedi- 
ate effect in closing the hearts, beclouding the intellects, draw- 
ing the purse-strings and buttoning the breeches-pockets of all 
philosophic legislators. Nor are its effects on the eyes less 
wonderful, It produces a contraction of the retina, an obscur- 
ity of the crystalline lens, a viscidity of the vitreous and an 
inspissation of the aqueous humours, an induration of the 
tunica sclerotica, and a convexity of the cornea ; insomuch that 
the organ of vision loses its strength and perspicuity, and the 
unfortunate patient becomes myopes, or, in plain English, pur- 
blind ; perceiving only the amount of immediate expense, with- 
out being able to look farther, and regard it in connexion with 
the ultimate object to be effected — "So that," to quote the 
words of the eloquent Burke, "a briar at his nose is of greater 
magnitude than an oak at five hundred yards' distance. " Such 
are its instantaneous operations, and the results are still more 
astonishing. By its magic influence, seventy-fours shrink into 
frigates— frigates into sloops, and sloops into gun-boats. 

This all-potent word, which served as his touchstone in poli- 
tics, at once explains the whole system of proclamations, pro- 
tests, empty threats, windmills, trumpeters, and paper war, 
carried on by Wilhelmus the Testy — and we may trace its ope- 
rations in an armament which he fitted out in 1642, in a 
moment of great wrath, consisting of two sloops and thirty 
men, under the command of Mynheer Jan Jansen Alpendam, 
as admiral of the fleet, and commander-in-chief of the forces. 
This formidable expedition, which can only be paralleled by 
some of the daring cruises of our infant navy about the bay 
and up the Sound, was intended to drive the Mary landers 
from the Schuylkill, of which they had recently taken posses- 
sion — and which was claimed as part of the province of New- 
Nederlandts — for it appears that at this time our infant colony 
was in that enviable state, so much coveted by ambitious 



154 ^ niSTORY OF NEW- YORE. 

nations, tnat is to say, the government had a vast extent 6\ 
territory, part of which it enjoyed, and the greater part of 
which it had continually to quarrel about. 

Admiral Jan Jansen Alpendam was a man of great . mettle 
and prowess, and no way dismayed at the character of the 
enemy, who were represented as a gigantic, gunpowder race 
of men, who lived on hoe-cakes and bacon, drank mint- juleps 
and apple-toddy, and were exceedingly expert at boxing, biting, 
gouging, tar and feathering, and a variety of other athletic 
accomplishments, which they had borrowed from theu' cousins- 
german and prototypes, the Virginians, to whom they had 
ever borne considerable resemblance. Notwithstanding all 
these alarming representations, the admirpl entered the 
Schuylkill most undauntedly with his fleet, and arrived with- 
out disaster or opposition at the place of destination. 

Here he attacked the enemy in a vigorous speech in Low 
Dutch, which the wary Kief t had previously put in liis pocket ; 
wherein he courteously commenced by calling them a pack 
of lazy, louting, dram-drinking, cock-fighting, horse-racing, 
slave-driving, tavern-haunting, Sabbath-breaking, mulatto- 
breeding upstarts — and concluded by ordering them to evacu- 
ate the country immediately — to which they most laconically 
replied in plain English, "they'd see liim d d first." 

Now this was a reply for which neither Jan Jansen Alpen 
dam nor Wilhelmus Kief t had made any calculation — and find- 
ing himself totally unprepared to answer so terrible a rebuff 
with suitable hostility, he concluded that his wisest course was 
to return home and report progress. He accordingly sailed 
back to New- Amsterdam, where he was received with great 
honours, and considered as a pattern for all commanders; 
having achieved a most hazardous enterprise, at a trifling ex- 
pense of treasure, and without losine: a single man to the State ! 
He was unanimously called the deliverer of his country, (an 
appellation liberally bestowed on all great men ;) his two sloops, 
having done their duty, were laid up (or dry-docked) in a cove 
now called the Albany basin, where they quietly rotted in the 
mud ; and to immortalize his name, they erected, by subscrip- 
tion, a magnificent shingle m.onument on the top of Flatten- 
barrack hill, which lasted three whole years; when it fell to 
pieces and was burnt for firewood. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 155 



CHAPTER V. 

HOW WILLIAM THE TESTY ENRICHED THE PROVINCE BY A MULTI- 
TUDE OF LAWS, AND GAME TO BE THE PATRON OF LAWYERS AND 
BUM-BAILIFFS— AND HOW THE PEOPLE BECAME EXCEEDINGLY 
ENLIGHTENED AND UNHAPPY UNDER HIS INSTRUCTIONS. 

Among the many wrecks and fragments of exalted wisdom 
which have floated down the stream of time, from venerable 
antiquity, and have been carefully picked up by those humble, 
but industrious wights, who ply along the shores of literature, 
we find the following sage ordinance of Charondas, the Locrian 
legislator. Anxious to preserve the ancient laws of the state 
from the additions and improvements of profound "country 
members," or officious candidates for popularity, he ordained 
that whoever proposed a new law, should do it with a halter 
about his neck ; so that in case his proposition w^s rejected, 
they just hung him up— and there the -matter ended. 

This salutary institution had such an effect, that for more 
than two hundred years there was only one trifling alteration 
in the criminal code — and the whole race of lawyers starved to 
death for want of employment. The consequence of this was, 
that the Locrians, being unprotected by an overwhelming load 
of excellent laws, and undefended by a standing army of petti- 
foggers and sheriff's officers, lived very lovingly together, and 
were such a happy people, that they scarce make any figure 
throughout the whole Grecian history — for it is Avell known 
that none but your unlucky, quarrelsome, rantipole nations 
make any noise in the world. 

Well would it have been for William the Testy, had he 
haply, in the course of his ' ' universal acquirements, '' stumbled 
upon this precaution of the good Charondas. On the contrary, 
he conceived that the true policy of a legislator was to mul- 
tiply laws, and thus secure the property, the persons, and the 
morals of the people, by surrounding them in a manner with 
men-traps and spring-guns, and besetting even the sweet 
sequestered walks of private life with quickset hedges, so that 
a man could scarcely turn, without the risk of encountering 
some of these pestiferous protectors. Thus was he continually 
coining petty laws for every petty offence that occurred, until 
in time they became too numerous to be remembered, and re- 
mained like those of certain modern legislators, mere dead- 



156 ^4 JII8T0RT OF NEW-TORK. 

letters — revived occasionally for the purpose of individual 
oppression, or to entrap ignorant offenders. 

Petty courts consequently began to appear, where the law 
was administered with nearly as much wisdom and impar- 
tiahty as in those august tribunals, the alderman's and jus- 
tice's courts of the present day. The plaintiff was generally 
favoured, as being a eustomer and bringing business to the 
shop ; the offences of the rich were discreetly winked at — for 
fear of hurting the feelings of their friends; — but it could 
never be laid to the charge of the vigilant burgomasters, that 
they suffered vice to skulk unpunished, under the disgraceful 
rags of poverty. 

About this time may we date the first introduction of capital 
punishments — a g-oodly gallows being erected on the water- 
side, about where Whitehall stairs are at present, a little to 
the east of the Battery. Hard by also was erected another 
gibbet of a very strange, uncouth, and unmatchable descrip- 
tion, but on which the ingenious William Kieft valued himself 
not a little, being a punishment entirely of his own invention. 

It was for loftiness of altitude not a whit inferior to that of 
Haman, so renowned in Bible history ; but the marvel of the 
contrivance was, that the culprit, instead of being suspended 
by»the neck, according to venerable custom, was hoisted by 
the waistband, and was kept for an hour together dangling 
and sprawling between heaven and earth — to the infinite en- 
tertainment and doubtless great edification of the multitude of 
respectable citizens, who usually attend upon exhibitions of 
the kind. 

It is incredible how the little governor chuckled at beholding 
caitiff vagrants and sturdy beggars thus swinging by the crup- 
per, and cutting antic gambols in the air. He had a thousand 
pleasantries and mirthful conceits to utter upon these occa- 
sions. He called them his dandle-lions— liis wild-fowl — his high- 
flyers—his spread-eagles — his goshawks — his scarecrows, and 
finally his gaUoivs-hirds, which ingenious appellation, though 
originally confined to worthies who had taken the air in this 
strange manner, has since grown to be a cant name given to 
all candidates for legal elevation. This punishment, moreover, 
if we may credit the assertions of certain grave etymologists, 
gave the first hint for a kind of harnessing, or strapping, by 
which our forefathers braced up their multifarious breeches, 
and which has of late years been revived, and continues to be 
worn at the present day. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 157 

Such were the admirable iinprovements of William Kieft in 
criminal law — nor was his civil code less a matter of wonder- 
ment ; and much does it grieve me that the hmits of my work 
will not suffer me to expatiate on both, with the prolixity they 
deserve. Let it suffice then to say, that in a little while the 
blessings of innumerable laws became notoriously apparent. 
It was soon found necessary to have a certain class of men to 
expound and confound them— divers pettifoggers accordingly 
made their appearance, under whose protecting care the com- 
munity was soon set together by the ears. 

I would not here be thought to insinuate any thing deroga= 
tory to the profession of the law, or to its dignified members. 
Well am I aware, that we have in this ancient city innumer- 
able worthy gentlemen who have embraced that honourable 
order, not for the sordid love of filthy lucre, nor the selfish 
cravings of renown, but through no other motives but a fer- 
vent zeal for the correct administration of justice, and a gen- 
erous and disinterested devotion to the mterests of their fel- 
low-citizens !— Sooner would I throw this trusty pen into the 
flames, and cork up my ink-bottle for ever, than infringe even 
for a nail's breadth upon the dignity of this truly benevolent 
class of citizens— on the contrary, I allude solely to that crew 
of caitiff scouts, who, in these latter days of evil, have become 
so mmaerous — who infest the skirts of the profession^ as did 
the recreant Cornish knights the honourable order of chivalry 
— who under its auspices, commit their depredations on so- 
ciety— ^ who thrive by quibbles, quirks, and chicanery, and, 
hke vermin, swarm most Avhere there is most corruption. 

ISlothing so soon awakens the malevolent passions, as the 
facility of gratification. The courts of law would never be so 
constantly crowded with petty, vexatious, and disgraceful 
suits were i^ not for the herds of pettifogging lawyers that in- 
fest them. These tamper with the passions of the lower and 
more ignorant classes ; who, as if poverty were not a sufficient 
misery in itself, are always ready to heighten it by the bitter- 
ness of litigation. They are in law what quacks are in medi- 
cine—exciting the malady for the purpose of profiting by the 
cure, and retarding the cure for the purpose of augmenting 
the fees. Where one destroys the constitution, the other im- 
poverishes the purse ; and it may hkewise be observed, that a 
patient, who has once been under the hands of a quack, is 
ever after dabbling in drugs, and poisoning himself with in- 
fallible remedies; and an ign-orant man, who has once meddled 



158 ^ HISTORY OF NKW-YOUK. 

with the law under the auspices of one of these empirics, i^ 
for ever after embroiling himself with his neighbours, and im- 
povei'ishing himself with successful law-suits. — My readers 
will excuse this digression, into which I have been unwarily 
betrayed; but I could not avoid giving a cool, unprejudiced 
account of an abomination too prevalent in this excellent city, 
and with the effects of which I am unluckily acquainted to my 
cost, having been nearly ruined by a law-suit, which was un- 
justly decided against me— and my ruin having been com- 
pleted by another, which was decided in my favour. 

It has been remarked by the observant writer of the Stuyve- 
sant manuscript, that under the administration of Wilhelmus 
Kieft the disposition of the inhabitai;its of New- Amsterdam 
experienced an essential change, so ihat they became very 
meddlesome and factious. The constant exacerbations of tem- 
per into which the little governor was thrown by the maraud- 
ings on his frontiers, and his unfortunate propensity to experi- 
ment and innovation, occasioned liim to keep his council in a 
continual worry— and the council being, to the people at large, 
what yest or leaven is to a batch, they threw the whole com- 
munity into a ferment— and the people at large being to the 
city what the mind is to the body, the unhappy commotions 
they underwent operated most disastrously upon New- Amster- 
dam — insomuch, that in certain of their j)aroxysms of conster- 
nation and perplexity, they begat several of the most crooked, 
distorted, and abominable streets, lanes, and alleys, with which 
this metropolis is disfigured. 

But the worst of the matter was, that just about this time 
the mob, since called the sovereign people, like Balaam's ass, 
began to grow more enlightened than its rider, and exhibited a 
strange desire of governing itself. This was another effect of 
the " universal acquirements" of WiUiam the Testy. In some 
of his pestilent researches among the rubbish of antiquity, he 
was struck with admiration at the institution of pubhc tables 
among the Lacedsemonians, where they discussed topics of a 
general and interesting nature— at the schools of the philosO' 
phers, where they engaged in profound disputes upon pohtics 
and morals — where gray-beards were taught the rudiments of 
wisdom, and youths learned to become little men before they 
were boys. " There is nothing," said the ingenious Kieft, shut- 
ting up the book, "there is nothing more essential to the well- 
management of a country, than education among the people ; 
the basis of a good govermnent should be laid in the public 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TOHK. 159 

mind."— Now this was true enough, but it was ever the way- 
ward fate of William the Testy, that when he thought right, he- 
was sure to go to work wrong. In the present instance, he 
could scarcely eat or sleep until he had set on foot brawling 
debating societies among the simple citizens of New- Amster- 
dam. This was the one thing wanting to complete his confu- 
sion. The honest Dutch burghers, though in truth but little 
given to argument or wordy altercation, yet by dint of meet- 
ing often together, fuddling themselves with strong drink, be- 
clouding their Drains with tobacco-smoke, and listening to the 
harangues of some half-a-dozen oracles, soon became exceed- 
ingly wise, and— as is always the case where the mob is politi- 
cally enlightened— exceedingly discontented. They found out, 
with wonclerful guickness of discernment, the fearful error in 
which they had inaulged, in fancying themselves the happiest 
people in creation— and were fortunately convinced, that, all 
circumstances to the contrary notwithstanding, they were a 
very unhappy, deluded, and consequently ruined people. 

In a short time, the quidnuncs of New- Amsterdam formed 
themselves into sage juntos of political croakers, who daily met 
together to groan over political affairs, and make themselves 
miserable ; thronging to these unhappy assemblages, with the 
same eagerness that zealots have in all ages abandoned the 
milder and more peaceful patliis of religion, to crowd to the 
howling convocations of fanaticism. We are naturally prone 
to discontent, and avaricious after imaginary causes of lamen- 
tation—like lubberly monks, we belabour our own shoulders, 
and seem to take a vast satisfaction in the music of our own 
groans. Nor is this said for che sake of paradox ; daily experi- 
ence shows the t-"uth of these observations. It is almost im- 
possible to elevate the spirits of a man groaning under ideal 
calamities; but nothing is more easy than to render him 
wretched, though on the pinnacle of felicity ; as it is a Hercu- 
lean task to hoist a man to the top of a steeple, though the 
merest child can topple him off thence. 

In the sage assemblages I have noticed, the reader wiU at 
once perceive the faint germs of those sapient convocations 
called popular meetings, prevalent at our day. Thither re- 
sorted all those idlers and "squires of low degree," who^ Hke 
rags, hang loose upon the back of society, and are ready to be 
blown away by every wind of doctrine. Cobblers abandoned 
their stalls, and hastened thither to give lessons on political 
economy— blacksmiths left their handicraft and suffered their 



160 ^ limrOBY OF NEW- YORK. 

own fires to go out, while they blew the bellows and stirred up 
the fire of faction ; and even tailors, though but the shreds and 
patches, the ninth parts of humanity, neglected their own 
measures to attend to the measures of government. — Nothing 
was wanting but half-a-dozen newspapers and patriotic editors, 
to have completed this public illumination, and to have thrown 
the whole province in an uproar ! 

I should not forget to mention, that these popular meetings 
were held at a noted tavern; for houses of that description 
have always been found the most fostering nurseries of poli- 
tics ; abounding with those genial streams which give strength 
and sustenance to faction. We are told that the ancient Ger- 
mans had an admirable mode of treating any question of im- 
portance ; they first deliberated upon it when drunk, and after- 
wards reconsidered it when sober. The shrewder mobs of 
America, who dislike having two minds upon a subject, both 
determine and act upon it drunk ; by which means a world of 
cold and tedious speculation is dispensed with— and as it is 
universally allowed, that when a man is drunk he sees double, 
it follows most conclusively that he sees twice as well as liis 
sober neighbours. 



CHAPTER VI. 



OF THE GREAT PIPE PLOT — AND OF THE DOLOROUS PERPLEXI- 
TIES INTO WHICH WILLIAM THE TESTY WAS THROWN, BY REA- 
SON OF HIS HAVING ENLIGHTENED THE MULTITUDE. 

WiLHELMUS KiEFT, as has already been made manifest, was 
a great legislator upon a small scale. He was of an active, or 
rather a busy mind; that is to say, his was one of those small, 
but brisk minds, which make up by bustle and constant mo- 
tion for the want of great scope and power. He had, v/hen 
quite a youngling, been impressed with the advice of Solomon, 
" Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways and be wise ;" 
in conformity to which, he had ever been of a restless, ant-Kke 
turn, worrying hither and thither, busying himself about little 
matters, with an air of great importance and anxiety — laying 
up wisdom by the morsel, and often toiling and puffing at a 
grain of mustard-reed, under the full conviction that he was 



A HISTORY OF JSEW-YORK. 161 

Thus we are told, that once upon a time, in one of his fits of 
mental bustle, which ho termed deliberation, he framed an un- 
lucky law, to prohibit the universal practice of smoking. This 
he proved, by mathematical demonstration, to be, not merely 
a heavy tax on the public pocket, but an incredible consumer 
of time, a great encourager of idleness, and, of course, a deadly 
bane to the prosperity and morals of the people. lU- fated 
Kieft! had he lived in this enlightened and libel-loving age, 
and attempted to subvert the inestimable liberty of the press, 
he could not have struck more closely on the sensibilities of the 
million. 

The populace were in as violent a turmoil as the constitutional 
gravity of their deportment would permit— a mob of factious 
citizens had even the hardihood to assemble before the gov- 
ernor's house, where, setting themselves resolutely down, like 
a besieging army before a fortress, they one and all fell to 
smoking with a determined perseverance, that seemed as 
though it were their intention to smoke him into terms. The 
testy William issued out of his mansion like a wrathful spider, 
and demanded to know the cause of this seditious assemblage, 
and this lawless fumigation; to which these stui;dy rioters 
made no other reply, than to loll back phlegmatically in their 
seats, and puff away with redoubled f ary ; whereby they raised 
such a murky cloud, that the governor was fain to take refuge 
in the interior of his castle. 

The governor immediately perceived the object of this un- 
usual tumult, and that it would be impossible to suppress a 
practice, which, by long indulgence, had become a second 
nature. And here I would observe, partly to explain why 1 
have so often made mention of this practice in my history, that 
it was inseparably connected with all the affairs, both pubhc 
and private, of our revered ancestors. The pipe, in fact, was 
never from the mouth of the true-born Nederlander. It was 
his companion in solitude, the relaxation of his gayer hours, 
his counsellor, his consoler, his joy, his pride ; in a word, he 
seemed to think and breathe through his pipe. 

When William the Testy bethought liimself of all these 
matters, which he certainly did, although a little too late, he 
came to a compromise with the besieging multitude. The re- 
sult was, that though he continued to permit the custom of 
smoking, yet did he abolish the fair long pipes which were 
used in the days of Wouter Van Twiller, denoting ease, tran- 
quilhty , and sobriety of deportment ; and, in place thereof, did 



162 -4 IJISTOliY OF ^^EW-YORK. 

introduce little, captious, short pipes, two inches in length; 
which, he observed, could be stuck in one corner of the mouth, 
or twibted in the hat-band, and would not be in the way of 
business. By this the multitude seemed somewhat appeased, 
and dispersed to their habitations. Thus ended this alarming 
insurrection, which was long known by the name of the pipe 
plot, and which, it has been somewhat quaintly observed, did 
end, like most other plots, seditions, and conspiracies, in mere 
smoke. 

But mark, oh reader ! the deplorable consequences that did 
afterwards result. The smoke of these villainous little pipes, 
continually ascendiD^" in a cloud about the nose, penetrated 
into, and befogged the cerebellum, dried up all the kindly 
moisture of the brain, and rendered the people that used them 
as vapourish and testy as their renowned little governor— nay, 
what is more, from a goodly, burly race of folk, they became, 
like our worthy Dutch farmers, who smoke short pipes, a 
lantern- jawed, smoke-dried, leathern -hided race of men. 

Nor was this all, for from hence may we date the rise of 
parties in this province. Certain of the more wealthy and 
important burghers adhering to the ancient fasliion, formed a 
kind of aristocracy, which went by the appellation of the Long 
Pipes — while the lower orders, submitting to the innovation, 
which they found to be more convenient in their handicraft 
employments, and to leave them more liberty of action, were 
branded with the plebeian name of Short Pipes. A third 
party likewise sprang up, differing from both the other, 
headed by the descendants of the famous Robert Chewit, the 
companion of the great Hudson. These entirely discarded the 
use of pipes, and took to chewing tobacco, and hence they 
were called Quids. It is worthy of notice, that this last appel- 
lation has since come to be invariably applied to those mongicl 
or third parties, that will sometimes spring up between tAvo 
great contending parties, as a mule is produced between a 
horse and an ass. 

And here I would remark the great benefit of these party 
distinctions, by which the people at large are saved the vast 
trouble of thinking. Hesiod divides mankind inte three 
classes : those who think for themselves, those who let others 
think for them, and those who will neither do one nor the 
other. The second class, however, comprises the great mass 
of society ; and hence is the origin of party, by which is meant 
a large body of people, some few of whom think, and all the 



A IlISTOllY OF NEW-TORK. 163 

rest talk. The foumer, who are called the leaders, marshal out 
and discipline the latter, teaching them what they must ap- 
prove — what they must hoot at — what they must say — whom 
they must support— but, above all, whom they must hate— 
for no man can be a right good partisian, unless he be a deter- 
mined and thorough-going hater. 

But when the sovereign people are thus properly broken to 
the harness, yoked, curbed, and reined, it is delectable to see 
with what docility and harmony they jog onward, through 
mud and mire, at the will of their drivers, dragging the dirt- 
carts of faction at their heels. How many a patriotic member 
of Congress have I seen, who would never have known how 
to make up his mind on any question, and might have run a 
great risk of voting right, by mere accident, had he not had 
others to think for hhn, and a file-leader to vote after ! 

Thus then the enlightened inhabitants of the Manhattoes, 
being divided into parties, were enabled to organize dissension, 
and to oppose and hate one another more accurately. And 
now the great business of politics went bravely on — the 
parties assembling in separate beer-houses, and smoking at each 
other with implacable animosity, to the great support of the 
state, and emolument of the tavern-keepers. Some, indeed, 
who were more zealous than the rest, went farther, and began 
to bespatter one another with numerous very hard names and 
scandalous Httle words, to be found in the Dutch language; 
every partisan believing religiously that he was serving his 
country, when he traduced the character or impoverished the 
pocket of a poUtical adversary. But, however they might 
differ between themselves, all parties agreed on one point, to 
cavil at and condemn every measure of government, whether 
right or wrong ; for as the governor was by his station inde- 
pendent of their power, and was not elected by their choice, 
and as he had not decided in favour of either faction, neither 
of them was interested in his success, or in the prosperity of 
the country, while under his administration. 

" Unhappy William Kieft!" exclaims the sage writer of the 
Stuyvesant manuscript — "doomed to contend with enemies 
too knowing to be entrapped, and to reign over a people too 
wise to be governed !" All his expeditions against his enemief? 
were baffled and set at nought, and all his measures for the 
public safety were cavilled at by the people. Did he propose 
levying an efficient body of troops for internal defence— the 
mob, that is to say those vagabond members of the community 



164 ^ HISTGRT OF NEW-TOBK. 

who have nothing to lose, immediately took the alarm, voci- 
ferated that their interests were in danger — ^that a standing 
army was a legion of moths, preying on the pockets of society ; 
a rod of iron in the hands of government ; and that a govern- 
ment with a ixdlitary force at its command would inevitably 
swell into a despotism. Did he, as was hut too commonly the 
case, defer preparation until the moment of emergency, and 
then hastily collect a handful of undisciplined vagrants — the 
measure was hooted at as feeble and inadequate, as trifling 
with the public dignity and safety, and as lavishing the pubhc 
funds on impotent enterprises. Did he resort to the economic 
measure of proclamation — he was laughed at by the Yankees; 
did he back it by non-intercourse— it was evaded and counter- 
acted by his own subjects. Whichever way he turned himself, 
he was beleaguered and distracted by petitions of ' ' numerous 
and respectable meetings," consisting of some half-a-dozen 
brawling pot-house politicians— all of which he read, and,' what 
is worse — all of which he attended to. The consequence was, 
that by incessantly changing his measures, he gave none of them 
a fair trial ; and by listenmg to the clamours of the mob, and 
endeavouring to do every thing, he, in sober truth, did nothing. 
I would not have it supposed, however, that he took all these 
memorials and interferences good-naturedly, for such an idea 
would do injustice to his valiant spirit; on the contrary, he 
never received a piece of advice in the whole course of his life, 
without first getting into a passion with the giver. But I have 
ever observed that your passionate httle men, like small boats 
with large sails, are the easiest upset or blown out of their 
course; and this is demonstrated by Governor Kieft, who, 
though in temperament as hot as an old radish, and with a 
mind, the territory of which was subjected to perpetua,l whirl- 
winds and tornadoes, yet never failed to be carried away by 
the last piece of advice that was blown into his ear. Lucky 
was it. for him that his power was not dependent upon the 
greasy multitude, and that as yet the populace did not possess 
the important privilege of nominating their chief magistrate! 
They, however, did their best to help along public affairs ; pes- 
tering their governor incessantly, by goading him on with 
harangues and petitions, and then thwarting his fiery spirit 
with reproaches and memorials, like Sunday jockies manag- 
ing an unlucky devil of a hack-horse — so that Wilhelmus Kieft 
may be said to have been kept either on a worry or a hand- 
gallop throughout the whole of his administration. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 165 



CHAPTER VII. 

CONTAINING DIVERS FEARFUL ACCOUNTS OF BORDER WARS, AND 
THE FLAGRANT OUTRAGES OF THE MOSSTROOPERS OF CONNECTI- 
CUT — WITH THE RISE OF THE GREAT AMPHYCTIONIC COUNCIL 
OF THE EAST, AND THE DECLINE OF WILLIAM THE TESTY. 

It was asserted by the wise men of ancient times, who were 
intimately acquainted with these matters, that at the gate of 
Jupiter's palace lay two huge tuns, the one fiUed with bless- 
ings, the other with misfortunes — and it verily seems as if the 
latter had been completely overturned and left to deluge the 
unlucky province of Nieuw-Nederlandts. Among the many 
internal and external causes of irritation, the incessant irrup- 
tions of the Yankees upon liis frontiers were continually add- 
ing fuel to the inflammable temper of Wilham the Testy. 
Numerous accounts of these molestations may still be found 
among the records of the times ; for the commanders on the 
frontiers were especially careful to evince their vigilance and 
zeal by striving who should send home the most frequent and 
voluminous budgets of complaints — as your faithful servant is 
eternally running with complaints to the parlour, of the petty 
squabbles and misdemeanours of the kitchen. 

Far be it from me to insinuate, however, that our worthy 
ancestors indulged in groundless alarms ; on the contrary, they 
were daily suffering a repetition of cruel wrongs,* not one of 
which but was a sufficient reason, according to the maxims of 
national dignity and honour, for throwing the whole universe 
into hostihty and confusion. 



* From among a multitude of bitter grievances still on record, I select a few of 
the most atrocious, and leave my readers to judge if our ancestors were not justifi- 
able in getting into a very valiant passion on the occasion. 

"24 June, 1641. Some of Hartford have taken a hogg out of the vlact or com- 
mon, and shut it up out of meer hate or other prejudice, causing it to starve for 
hunger in the stye!" 

"26 July. The foremencioned English did again drive the Companie's hoggs out 
of the vlact of Sicojoke into Hartford ; contending daily with reproaches, blows, 
beating the people with all disgrace that they could imagine." 

" May 20, 1642. The English of Hartford have violently cut loose a horse of the 
honoured Companie's, that stood bound upon the common or vlact." 

"May 9, 1643. The Companie's horses . pastured upon the Companie's ground, 
were driven away by them of Connecticott or Hartford, and the herdsmen lustily 
beaten with hatchets and sticks." 

" 16. Again they sold a young hogg belonging to the Companie, which piggs had 
pastured on the Companie's land."— ^az. Col. State Papers. 



166 ^ BISTORT OF ^BWrOBK. 

Oh, ye powers ! into what indignation did every one of these 
outrages throw the philosophic WiUiam! letter after letter, 
protest after protest, proclamation after proclamation, bad 
Latin, worse Enghsh, and hideous Low Dutch were exhausted 
in vain upon the inexorable Yankees ; and the f our-and-twenty 
letters of the alphabet, which, excepting his champion, the 
sturdy trumpeter Van Corlear, composed the only standing 
army he had at his command, were never off duty throughout 
the whole of his administration. Nor was Antony the trum- 
peter a whit behind hi« patron in fiery zeal ; but like a faithful 
champion of the pubhc safety, on the arrival of every fresh 
article of news, he was sure to sound his trumpet from the 
ramparts, with most disastrous notes, throwing the people 
into violent alarms, and disturbing their rest at all times and 
seasons — which caused him to be held in very great regard, 
the public pampering and rewarding him, as we do brawhng 
editors for similar services. 

I am well aware of the perils that environ me in this part of 
my history. While raking with ciu-ious hands, but pious 
heart, among the mouldering remains of former days, anxious 
to draw therefrom the honey of wisdom, I may fare somewhat 
like that vahant worthy, Samson, who, in meddhng with the 
carcass of a dead hon, drew a swarm of bees about his ears. 
Thus, while narrating the many misdeeds of the Yanokie or 
Yankee tribe, it is ten chances to one but I offend the morbid 
sensibilities of certain of their unreasonable descendants, who 
may fly out and raise such a buzzing about this unlucky head 
of mine, that I shall need the tough hide of an Achilles or an 
Orlando Furioso to protect me from their stings. 

Should such be the case, I should deeply and sincerely 
lament — not my misfortune in giving offence — ^but the wrong- 
headed perverseness of an ill-natured generation, in taking 
offence at anything I say. That their ancestors did use my 
ancestors ill, is true, and I am very sorry for it. I would, 
with all my heart, the fact were otherwise; but as I am 
recording the sacred events of history, I'd not bate one nail's 
breadth of the honest truth, though I were sure the whole 
edition of my work should be bought up and burnt by the 
common hangman of Connecticut. And in sooth, now that 
these testy gentlemen have drawn me out, I will make bold 
to go farther and observe, that this is one of the grand pur- 
poses for which we impartial historians are sent into the world 
— ^to redress wrongs and render justice on the heads of the 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 167 

guilty. So that, though a powerful nation may wrong its 
neighbours Tsdth temporary impunity, yet sooner or later a 
historian springs up who wreaks ample chastisement on it in 
return. 

Thus these mosstroopers of the east little thought, I'll war- 
rant it, while they were harassing the inoffensive province of 
Nieuw-Nederlandts, and driving its unhappy governor to his 
wit's end, that a historian should ever arise and give them 
their OAvn with interest. Since, then, I am but performing my 
bounden duty as a historian, in avenging the wrongs of our 
revered ancestors, I shaU make no further apology; and in 
deed, when it is considered that I have all these ancient bor- 
derers of the east in my power, and at the mercy of my pen, I 
trust that it will be admitted I conduct myself with great 
humanity and moderation. 

To resume, then, the course of my history. Appearances to 
the eastward began now to assume a more formidable aspect 
than ever — for I would have you note that hitherto the province 
had been chiefly molested by its immediate neighbours, the 
people of Connecticut, particularly of Hartford ; which, if we 
may judge from ancient chronicles, was the stronghold of 
these sturdy mosstroopers, from whence they salHed forth, on 
their daring incursions, carrying terror and devastation into 
the barns, the hen-roosts, and pig-styes of our revered an- 
cestors. 

Albeit, about the year 1643, the people of the east country, 
inhabiting the colonies of Massachusetts, Connecticut, New- 
Plymouth, and New-Haven, gathered together into a mighty 
conclave, and after buzzing and debating for many days, hke 
a political hive of bees in swarming time, at length settled 
themselves into a formidable confederation, under the title of 
the United Colonies of New -England. By this union, they 
pledged themselves to stand by one another in all perils and 
assaults, and to co-operate in all measures, offensive and de- 
fensive, against the surrounding savages, among which were 
doubtlessly included our honoured ancestors of the Manhattoes ; 
and to give more strength and system to this confederation, a 
general assembly or grand council was to be annually held, 
composed of representatives from each of the provinces. 

On receiving accounts of this combination, Wilhelmus Kieft 
was struck with consternation, and, for the first time in his 
whole life, forgot to bounce, at hearing an unwelcome piece of 
intelligence— which a venerable historian of the time observes. 



IQS A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

was especially noticed among the politicians of New-Amster- 
dam. The truth was, on turning over in his mind all that he 
had read at the Hague, about leagues and combinations, he 
found that this was an exact imitation of the Amphyctionic 
council, by which the states of Greece were enabled to attain 
to such power and supremacy, and the very idea made his 
heart to quake for the safety of his empire at the Manhattoes. 

He strenuously insisted that the whole object of this confed- 
eration was to drive the Nederlanders out of their fair domains ; 
and always flew into a great rage if any one presumed to 
doubt the probability of his conjecture. Nor was he wholly 
unwarranted in such a suspicion ; for at the very first annual 
meeting of the grand council, held at Boston, (which governor 
Kieft denominated the Delphos of this truly classic league,) 
strong representations were made against the Nederlanders, 
forasmuch as that in their deahngs with the Indians, they car- 
ried on a traffic in "guns, powther, and shott— a trade damna- 
ble and injurious to the colonists."* Not but what certain of 
the Connecticut traders did likewise dabble a little in this 
"damnable traffic"— but then they always sold the Indians 
such scurvy guns, that they burst at the first discharge — and 
consequently hurt no one but these pagan savages. 

The rise of this potent confederacy was a deathblow to the 
glory of William the Testy, for from that day forward, it was 
remarked by many, he never held up his head, but appeared 
quite crestfallen. His subsequent reign, therefore, affords but 
scanty food for the historic pen — we find the grand council con- 
tinually augmenting in power, and threatening to overwhelm 
the province of Nieuw - Nederlandts ; while Wilhelmus Kieft 
kept constantly fulminating proclamations and protests, like 
a shrewd sea-captain firing off carronades and swivels, in order 
to break and disperse a waterspout— but alas ! they had no more 
effect than if they had been so many blank cartridges. 

The last document on record of this learned, philosophic, but 
unfortunate Httle man, is a long letter to the council of the 
Amphyctions, wherein, in the bitterness of his heart, he rails 
at the people of New-Haven, or Eed Hills, for their uncourte- 
ous contempt of his protest, levelled at them for squatting 
within the province of their High Mightinesses. From this 
letter, which is a model of epistolary writing, abounding with 
pithy apophthegms and classic figures, my limits will barely 

* Haz. Col. state Papers 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 169 

allow me to extract the following recondite passage:— "Cer- 
tainly when we heare the Inhabitants of New-Hartford com- 
playninge of us, we seem to heare Esop's wolfe complayninge 
of the lamb, or the admonition of the yomige man, who cryed 
out to his mother, chideing with her neighboures, ' Oh Mother 
revile her, lest she first take up that practice against you.' 
Hut being taught by precedent passages, we received such an 
iuiswer to our protest from the inhabitants of New-Haven as 
T^^G expected ; the Eagle always despiseth the Beetle Fly; yet 
notwithstanding we do undauntedly continue on our purpose 
of pursuing our own right, by just arms and righteous means, 
and doe hope without scruple to execute the express commands 
of our superiors." * To show that this last sentence was not a 
mere empty menace, he concluded his letter by intrepidly pro- 
testing against the whole council, as a horde of squatters and 
interlopers, inasmuch as they held their meeting at New- 
Haven, or the Eed-Hills, which he claimed as being within 
the province of the New-Netherlands. 

Thus end the authenticated chronicles of the reign of Wil- 
Uam the Testy— for henceforth, in the troubles, the perplexi- 
ties, and the confusion of the times, he seems to have been 
totally overlooked, and to have slipped for ever through the 
fingers of scrupulous history. Indeed, for some cause or other 
which I cannot divine, there appears to have been a combina- 
tion among historians to sink his very name into oblivion, in 
consequence of which they have one and all forborne even to 
speak of his exploits. This shows how important it is for great 
men to cultivate the favour of the learned, if they are am- 
bitious of honour and renown. "Insult not the dervise," said 
a wise caliph to his son, "lest thou offend thine historian;" and 
many a mighty man of the olden time, had he observed so ob- 
vious a maxim, might have escaped divers cruel wipes of the 
pen, which have been drawn across his character. 

It has been a matter of deep concern to me, that such dark- 
ness and obscurity should hang over the latter days of the 
illustrious Kieft— for he was a mighty and great little man, 
worthy of being utterly renowned, seeing that he was the first 
potentate that introduced into this land the art of fighting by 
proclamation, and defending a country by trumpeters and 
windmills — an economic and humane mode of warfare, since 
revived with great applause, and which promises, if it can ever 

* Vide Haz. Col. State Papers. 



170 ^ HISTORT OF NEW- YORK 

be carried into full effect, to save great trouble and treasure, 
and spare infinitely more bloodshed than either the discovery 
of gunpowder, or the invention of torpedoes. 

It is true, that certain of the early provincial poets, of whom 
there were great numbers in the Nieuw-Nederlandts, taking ad- 
vantage of the mysterious exit of William the Testy, have 
fabled, that like Romulus, he was translated to the skies, and 
forms a very fiery httle star, somewhere on the left claw of 
the crab ; while others, equally fanciful, declare that he had 
experienced a fate similar to that of the good King Arthur; 
who, we are assured by ancient bards, was carried away to 
the delicious abodes of fairy land, where he still exists in pris= 
tine worth and vigour, and will one day or another return to 
restore the gallantry, the honour, and the immaculate probity 
which prevailed in the glorious days of the Eound Table.* 

All these, however, are but pleasing fantasies, the cobweb 
visions ot those dreaming varlets, the poets, to which I would 
not have my judicious reader attach any credibihty. Neither 
am I disposed to yield any credit to the assertion of an ancient 
and rather apocryphal historian, who alleges that the ingen- 
ious Willi^lmus was annihilated by the blowing down of one of 
his windmills — nor to that of a writer of later times, who 
affirms tnat he fell a victim to a philosophical experiment, 
which he had for many years been vainly striving to 
accomplish ; having the misfortune to break his neck from the 
garret- window of the stadt-house, in an ineffectual attempt to 
catch swallows, by sprinkling fresh salt upon their tails. 

The most probable account, and to which I am inclined to 
give my implicit faith, is contained in a very obscure tradition, 
which declares, that what with the constant troubles on his 
frontiers — the incessant schemings and projects going on in his 
own pericranium — the memorials, petitions, remonstrances, 
and sage pieces of advice from divers respectable meetings of 
the sovereign people — together with the refractory disposition 
of his council, who were sure to differ from him on every point, 
and uniformly to be in the wrong— all these, I say, did eter- 



* The old Welch bards believed that king Arthur was not dead, but carried awaie 
by the fairies into some pleasant place, where he shold remaine for a time, and then 
returne againe and reigne in as great authority as ever.—HolUngshed. 

The Britons suppose that he shall come yet and conquere all Britaigne, for certes, 
this is the prophicye of Merlyn — He say'd that his deth shall be doubteous; and 
said soth. for men thereof yet have doubte and shullen for ever more— for men wyt 
not whether that he ly veth or is dede.— De Leeiu Chron. 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK 171 

nally operate to keep his mind in a kind of furnace heat, until 
he at length became as completely burnt out as a Dutch family 
pipe which has passed through three generations of hard 
smokers. In this manner did the choleric but magnanimous 
WiUiam the Testy undergo a kind of animal combustion, 
consuming away hke a farthing rush-hght — so that, when grim 
Death finally snuffed him out, there was scarce left enough of 
iiim to bury I 



172 ^ JIISTORT OF NEW-YORK. 



BOOK Vi 



CONTAINING THE FIRST FART OF THE REIGN 01 
PETER STUYVESANT, AND HIS TROUBLES WITH 
THE AMPHYCTIONIC COUNCIL. 



CHAPTEE L 

IN WHICH THE DEATH ,OF A GREAT MAN IS SHOWN TO BE NO 
VERY INCONSOLABLE MATTER OF SORROW — ^AND HOW PETER 
STUYVESANT ACQUIRED A GREAT NAME FROM THE UNCOMMON 
STRENGTH OF HIS HEAD. 

To a profound philosopher, like myself, who am apt to see 
clear through a subject, where the penetration of ordinary- 
people extends but half-way, there is no fact more simple and 
manifest, than that the death of a great man is a matter of 
very little importance. Much as we may think of ourselves, 
and much as we may excite the empty plaudits of the million, 
it is certain that the greatest among us do actually fill but an 
exceeding small space in the world ; and it is equally certain, 
that even that small space is quickly supplied when we leave it 
vacant. " Of what consequence is it," said Pliny, ''that indi- 
viduals appear or make their exit? the world is a theatre 
whose scenes and actors are continually changing." Never 
did iDhilosopher speak more correctly ; and I only wonder that 
so wise a remark could have existed so many ages, and 
mankind not have laid it more to heart. Sage follows on in 
the footsteps of sage ; one hero just steps out of his triumphal 
car to make way for the hero who comes after him ; and of 
the proudest monarch it is merely said, that— ''he slept with 
his fathers, and his successor reigned in his stead. " 

The world, to tell the private truth, cares but little for their 
loss, and if left to itseK would soon forget to grieve; and 
though a nation has often been figuratively drowned in tears 
on the death of a great man, yet it is ten chances to one if an 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK 173 

individual tear has been shed on the occasion, excepting from 
the forlorn pen of some hungry author. It is the historian, the 
biogi^apher, and the poet, who have the whole burden of grief 
to sustain; who — kind souls! — like undertakers* in England, 
act the part of chief mourners — who inflate a nation with sigiis 
it never heaved, and deluge it with tears it never dreamt of 
shedding. Thus, while the patriotic author is weeping and 
howling, in prose, in blank verse, and in rhyme, and collecting 
the drops of public sorrow into his voliune, as into a lachrymal 
vase, it is more than probable his fellow-citizens are eating and 
drinking, fiddling and dancing, as utterly ignorant of the 
bitter lamentations made in their name, as are those men of 
straw, John Doe and Richard Roe, of the plaintiffs for whom 
they are generously pleased on divers occasions to become 
sureties. 

The most glorious and praiseworthy hero that ever desolated 
nations, might have mouldered into obhvion among the rub- 
bish of his own monument, did not soine historian take him 
into favour, and benevolently transmit his name to posterity 
—and much as the valiant William Kieft worried, and bus- 
tled, and turmoiled, while he had the destinies of a whole 
colony in his hand, I question seriously whether he will not be 
obliged to this authentic history for all his future celebrity. 

His exit occasioned no convulsion in the city of New- Amster- 
dam or its vicinity: the earth trembled not, neither did any 
stars shoot from their spheres— the heavens were not shrouded 
in black, as poets would fain persuade us they have been on 
the unfortunate death of a hero — the rocks (Tiard-hearted var- 
lets !) melted not into tears, nor did the trees hang their heads 
in silent sorrow ; and as to the sun, he laid abed the next night, 
just as long, and showed as jolly a face when he arose, as he 
ever did on the same day of the month in any year, either be- 
fore or since. The good people of New-Amsterdam, one and 
all. declared that he had been a very busy, active, bustling 
little governor; that he was " the father of his country" — that 
he was "the noblest work of God"— that "he was a man, take 
him for all in all, they ne'er should look upon his like again" — 
together with sundry other civil and affectionate speeches, 
that are regularly said on the death of all great men ; after 
which they smoked their pipes, thought no more about him, 
and Peter Stuyvesant succeeded to his station. 

Peter Stuyvesant was the last, and, like the renowned Wou- 
ter Van Twiller, he was also the best of our ancient Dutch 



174 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 

governors: Wouter having surpassed all who preceded him, 
and Peter, or Piet, as he was sociably called by the old Dutch 
burghers, who were ever prone to famiharize names, having 
never been equalled by any successor. He was, in fact, the 
very man fitted by Nature to retrieve the desperate fortunes 
of her beloved province, had not the fates, those most potent 
and unrelenting of all ancient spinsters, destined them to inex- 
tricable confusion. 

To say merely that he was a hero would be doing him greet 
injustice— he was in truth a combination of heroes— for he was 
of a sturdy, rawbone make, hke Ajax Telamon, with a pair of 
round shoulders that Hercules would have given his hide for, 
(meaning his hon's hide,) when he undertook to ease old Atlas 
of his load. He was, moreover, as Plutarch describes Corio- 
lanus, not only terrible for the force of his arm, but likewise 
of his voice, which sounded as though it came out of a barrel ; 
and like the self-same warrior, he possessed a sovereign con- 
tempt for the sovereign people, and an ii'on aspect, which was 
enough of itself to make the very bowels of his adversaries 
quake with terror and dismay. All this martial excellency of 
appearance was inexpressibly heightened by an accidental ad- 
vantage, with which I am surprised that neither Homer nor 
Virgil have graced any of their heroes. This was nothing less 
than a wooden leg, which was the only prize he had gained, in 
bravely fighting. the battles of his country, but of which he 
was so proud, that he was often heard to declare he valued it 
more than all his other limbs put together ; indeed, so highly 
did he esteem it, that he had it gallantly enchased and relieved 
with silver devices, which caused it to be related in divers his- 
tories and legends that he wore a silver leg.* 

Like that choleric warrior, Achilles, he was somewhat sub- 
ject to extempore bursts of passion, which were ofttimes rather 
unpleasant to his favourites and attendants, whose perceptions 
he was apt to quicken, after the manner of his illustrious imi- 
tator, Peter the Great, by anointing their shoulders with his 
walking-staff. 

Though I cannot find that he had read Plato, or Aristotle, 
or Hobbes, or Bacon, or Algernon Sidney, or Tom Paine, yet 
did he sometimes manifest a shrewdness and sagacity in his 
measures, that one would hardly expect from a man who did 
not know Greek, and had never studied the ancionts. True it 

* See the histories of Masters Josselyn and Blome. 



A HISTOllT OF NEW- YORK. 175 

is, and I confess it with sorrow, that he had an unreasonable 
aversion to experiments, and was fond of governing his pro- 
vince after the siraplest manner— but then he contrived to 
keep it in better order than did the erudite Kieft, though- he 
had all the philosophers ancient and modern to assist and per- 
l^lex him. I must likewise own that he made but very few- 
laws, but then again he took care that those few were rigidly 
and impartially enforced— and I do not know but justice on 
the whole was as well administered as if there had been vol- 
umes of sage acts and statutes yearly made, and daily neg- 
lected and forgotten. 

He was, in fact, the very reverse of his predecessors, being 
neither tranquil and inert, like Walter the Doubter, nor rest- 
less and fidgeting, like William the Testy ; but a man, or 
rather a governor, of such uncommon activity and decision of 
mind that he never sought or accepted the advice of others ; 
depending confidently upon his single head, as did the heroes 
of yore upon their single arms, to work his way through all 
difficulties and dangers. To tell the simple truth, he wanted 
no other requisite for a perfect statesman, than to think always 
right, for no one can deny that he always acted as he thought ; 
and if he wanted in correctness, he made up for it in persever- 
ance — an excellent quality! since it is surely more dignified 
for a ruler to be persevering and consistent in error, than 
wavering and contradictory, in endeavouring to do what is 
right. This much is certain — and it is a maxim worthy the at- 
tion of all legislators, both great and small, who stand shaking 
in the wind, without knowing wliich way to steer — a ruler who 
acts according to his OAvn will is sure of pleasing himself, while 
he who seeks to satisfy the wishes and whims of others, runs 
a great risk of pleasing nobody. The clock that stands still, 
and points steadfastly in one direction, is certain of being right 
twice in the four-and-twenty hours — while others may keep 
going continually, and continually be going wrong. 

Nor did this magnanimous virtue escape the discernment of 
the good people of Nieuw-Nederlandts ; on the contrary, so high 
an opinion had they of the independent mind and vigorous in- 
tellect of their new governor, that they universally called him 
Hardkoppig Piet, or Peter the Headstrong— a gi-eat compli- 
ment to his understanding ! 

If from all that I have said thou dost not gather, worthy 
reader, that Peter Stuyvesant was a tough, sturdy, valiant, 
weather-beaten, mettlesome, / obstinate, leathern-sided, lion* 



376 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-TORE. 

hearted, generous-spirited old governor, either I have written 
to but Uttle purpose, or thou art very dull at drawing con- 
clusions. 

This most excellent governor, whose character I have thu.7 
attempted feebly to delineate, commenced his administration 
on the 29th of May, 1647 ; a remarkably stormy day, distin 
guished in all the almanacs of the time which have come down 
to us, by the name of Windy Friday. As he was very jealous 
of his personal and official dignity, he was inaugurated into 
office with great ceremony; the goodly oaken chair of the 
renowned Wouter Van Twiller being carefully preserved for 
such occasions, in like manner as the chair and stone were 
reverentially preserved at Schone, in Scotland, for the corona- 
tion of the Caledonian monarchs. 

I must not omit to mention, that the tempestuous state of 
the elements, together with its being that unlucky day of the 
week, termed "hanging day," did not fail to excite much 
grave speculation and divers very reasonable apprehensions 
among the more ancient and enhghtened inhabitants; and 
several of the sager sex, who were reputed to be not a little 
skilled in the mysteries of astrology and fortune-telling, did 
declare outright that they were omens of a disastrous admin- 
istration — an event that came to be lamentably verffied, and 
which proves, beyond dispute, the wisdom of attending to 
those preternatural intimations furnished by dreams and vis- 
ions, the flying of birds, falling of stones, and cackling of geese, 
on which the sages and rulers of ancient times placed such 
reliance — or to those shootings of stars, echpses of the moon, 
howhngs of dogs, and flarings of candles, carefuUy noted and 
interpreted by the oracular sybils of our day; who, in my 
humble opinion, are the legitimate inheritors and preservers 
of the ancient science of divination. This much is certain, 
that governor Stuyvesant succeeded to the chair of state at a 
turbulent period; when foes thronged and threatened from 
without; when anarchy and stiff-necked opposition reigned 
rami3ant within; when the authority of their High Mighti- 
nesses the Lords States General, though founded on the broad 
Dutch bottom of unoffending imbecility ; though supported by 
economy, and defended by speeches, protests and proclama- 
mations, yet tottered to its very centre ; and when the great city 
of New- Amsterdam, though fortified by flag-staffs, trumpeters, 
and windmills, seemed like some fair lady of easy virtue, to lie 
open to attack, and ready to yield to the first invader. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. I77 



CHAPTER II. 

SHOWING HOW PETER THE HEADSTRONG BESTIRRED HIMSELF 
AMONG THE RATS AND COBWEBS, ON ENTERING INTO OFFICE — 
AND THE PERILOUS MISTAKE HE WAS GUILTY OF, IN HIS DEAL- 
INGS WITH THE AMPHYCTIONS. 

The very first movements of the great Peter, on taking the 
reigns of government, displayed the magnanimity of his mind, 
though they occasioned not a httle marvel and uneasiness 
among the people of the Manhattoes. Finding liimself con- 
stantly interrupted by the opposition, and annoyed by the ad- 
vice, of his privy council, the members of which had acquired 
the unreasonable habit of thinking and speaking for themselves 
during the preceding reign, he determined at once to put a 
stop to such grievous abominations. Scarcely, therefore, had 
he entered upon his authority, than he turned out of office all 
those meddlesome spirits that composed the factious cabinet of 
Wilham the Testy ; in place of whom he chose unto himself 
counsellors from those fat, somniferous, respectable famihes, 
that had flourished and slumbered under the easy reign of 
Walter the Doubter. All these he caused to be furnished with 
abundance of fair long pipes, and to be regaled with frequent 
corporation dinners, admonishing them to smoke, and eat, and 
sleep for the good of the nation, while he took all the burden 
of government upon his own shoulders — an arrangement to 
which they gave hearty acquiescence. 

Nor did he stop h^ere, but made a hideous rout among the 
inventions and expedients of his learned predecessor — demol- 
ishing his flagstaffs and windmills, which, like mighty giants, 
guarded the ramparts of New- Amsterdam — pitching to the 
duyvel whole batteries of quaker guns — rooting up his patent 
gallows, where caitiff vagabonds were suspended by the waist- 
band—and, in a word, turning topsy-turvy the whole philo- 
sophic, economic, and windmill system of the immortal sage 
of Saardem. 

The honest folks of New- Amsterdam began to quake now for 
the fate of their matchless champion, Antony the trumpeter, 
wJio had acquired prodigious favour in the eyes of the women, 
by means of his whiskers and his trumpet. Him did Peter the 
Headstrong cause to be brought into his presence, and eyeing 



178 -"^ HISTORY OF NKW-TORK. 

him for a moment from head to foot, with a countenance that 
would have appalled any thing else than a sounder of brass — 
" Pry thee, who and what art thou?" said he. — " Sire," rephed 
the other, in no wise dismayed, — " for my name, it is Antony 
Van Corlear — for my parentage, I am the son of my mother — 
for my profession, I am champion and garrison of this great 
city of New- Amsterdam." — "I doubt me much," said Peter 
Stuyvesant, " that thou art some scurvy costardmonger knave 
— how didst thou acquire this paramount honour and dignity?" 
— "Marry, sir," rephed the other, "hke many a great man 
before me, simply hy sounding my own trumpet.'''' — " Ay, is it 
so?" quoth the governor, "why, then, let us.have a rehsh of 
thy art." Whereupon he put his instrument to his Hps, and 
sounded a charge with such a tremendous outset, such a de- 
lectable quaver, and such a triumphant cadence, that it was 
enough to make your heart leap out of your mouth only to be 
within a mile of it. Like as a war-worn charger, while sport- 
ing in peaceful plains, if by chance he hear the strains of mar- 
tial music, pricks up his ears, and snorts and paws and kindles 
at the noise, so did the heroic soul of the mighty Peter joy to 
hear the clangour of the trumpet ; for of him might truly be 
said what was recorded of the renowned St. George of England, 
"there was nothing in all the world that more rejoiced his 
heart, than to hear the pleasant sound of war, and see the sol- 
diers brandish forth their steeled weapons." Casting his eyes 
more kindly, therefore, upon the sturdy Van Corlear, and find- 
ing him to be a jolly, fat little man, shrewd in his discourse, 
yet of great discretion and immeasurable wind, he straightway 
conceived a vast kindness for him, and discharging him from 
the troublesome duty of garrisoning, defending, and alarming 
the city, ever after retained him about his person, as his cliief 
favourite, confidential envoy, and trusty 'squire. Instead of 
disturbing the city with disastrous notes, he was instructed to 
play so as to delight the governor while at his repasts, as did 
the minstrels of yore in the days of glorious chivalry — and on 
all public occasions to rejoice the ears of the people with war- 
like melody — thereby keeping ahve a noble and martial spirit. 
Many other alterations and reformations, both for the better 
and for the worse, did the governor make, of which my time 
will not serve me to record the particulars ; suffice it to say, 
he soon contrived to make the province feel that he was its 
master, and treated the sovereign people with such tyrannical 
rigour, that they were all fain to hold their tongues, stay at 



A UISTOUY OF NEW- YORK. 179 

home, and attend to their business ; insomuch that party feuds 
and distinctions were ahnost forgotten, and many thriving 
keepers of taverns and dramshops were utterly ruined ior 
want of business. 

Indeed, the critical state of public affairs at this time de- 
manded the utmost vigilance and promptitude. The formida- 
ble council of the Amphyctions, which had caused so much 
tribulation to the unfortunate Kieft, still continued augment- 
ing its forces, and threatened to link within its union all the 
mighty principalities and powers of the east. In the very 
year following the inauguration of Governor Stuyvesant, a 
grand deputation departed from the city of Providence (fa- 
mous for its dusty streets and beauteous women,) in behalf 
of the puissant plantation of Ehode Island, praying to be ad- 
mitted into the league. 

The following mention is made of this appHcation, in certain 
records of that assemblage of worthies, which are still extant.* 

"Mr. Will Cottington and captain Partridg of Rhoode-Iland 
presented this insewing request to the commissioners in 
wrighting — 

"Our request.and motion is in behalf e of Ehoode-Iland, that 
wee the Ilanders of Rhoode-Iland may be rescauied into com- 
bination with all the united colonyes of New-England in a 
firme and perpetuall league of friendship and amity of of ence 
and defence, mutuall advice and succor upon all just occasions 
for our mutuall safety and weUfaire, &c. 

Will Cottington, 
Alicxsander Partridg." 

There is certainly something in the very physiognomy of 
this document that might well inspire apprehension. The 
name of Alexander, however misspelt, has been warlike in 
every age ; and though its fierceness is in some measure soft- 
ened by being coupled with the gentle cognomen of Partridge, 
still, like the colour of scarlet, it bears an exceeding great re= 
semblance to the sound of a trumpet. From the style of the 
letter, moreover, and the soldier-like ignorance of orthography 
displayed by the noble captain Alicxsander Partridg in spell- 
ing his own name, we may picture to ourselves this mighty 
man of Rhodes, strong in arms, potent in the field, and as 
great a scholar as though he had been educated among that 

* Haz. Col. state Papers. 



180 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

learned people of Thrace, who, Aristotle assures us, could not 
count beyond the number four. 

But, whatever might be the threatening aspect of this 
famous confederation, Peter Stuyvesant was not a man to be 
kept in a state of incertitude and vague apprehension; he 
liked notliing so much as to meet danger face to face, and 
take it by the beard. Determined, therefore, to put an end 
to all these petty maraudings on the borders, he wrote two or 
three categorical letters to the grand council ; which, though 
neither couched in bad Latin, nor yet graced by rhetorical 
tropes about wolves and lambs, and beetle-flies, yet had more 
effect than all the elaborate epistles, protests, and proclama- 
tions of his learned predecessor put together. In consequence 
of his urgent propositions, the great confederacy of the east 
agreed to enter into a final adjustment of grievances and set- 
tlement of boundaries, to the end that a perpetual and happy 
peace might take place between the two powers. For this 
purpose. Governor Stuyvesant deputed two ambassadors to 
negotiate with commissioners from the grand council of the 
league; and a treaty was solemnly concluded at Hartford, 
On receiving intelligence of this event, the whole community 
iTas in an uproar of exultation. The trumpet of the sturdy 
Van Corlear sounded all day with joyful clangour from the 
ramparts of Fort Amsterdam, and at night the city was mag- 
nificently illuminated with two hundred and fifty tallow can- 
dles ; besides a barrel of tar, which was burnt before the gov- 
ernor's house, on the cheering aspect of public affairs. 

And now my worthy reader is, doubtless, like the great and 
good Peter, congratulating himself with the idea, that his feel- 
ings will no longer be molested by afflicting details of stolen 
horses, broken heads, impounded hogs, and all the other cata- 
logue of heartrending cruelties that disgraced these border 
wars. But if he should indulge in such expectations, it is a 
proof that he is but little versed in the paradoxical ways of 
cabinets ; to convince him of which, I solicit his serious atten- 
tion to my next chapter, wherein I will show that Peter Stuy- 
vesant has already committed a great error in politics ; and by 
effecting a peace, has materially hazarded the tranquiUity of 
the provinae. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TOBE. 18] 



CHAPTER III. 

CONTAINING DIVERS SPECULATIONS ON WAR AND NEGOTIATIONS^ 
SHOWING THAT A TREATY OF PEACE IS A GREAT NATIONAL 
EVIL. 

It was the opinion of that poetical philosopher, Lucretius, 
that war was the original state of man, whom he described as 
being primitively a savage beast of prey, engaged in a con- 
stant state of hostility with his own species ; and that this fe- 
rocious spirit was tamed and meliorated by society. The same 
opinion has been advocated by Hobbes ; * nor have there been 
wanting many other philosophers, to admit and defend it. 

For my part, though prodigiously fond of these valuable 
speculations, so complimentary to human nature, yet, in this 
instance, I am inclined to take the proposition by halves, be- 
lieving, with Horace,! that though war may have oeen origin- 
ally the favourite amusement and industrious employr-^ent of 
our progenitors, yet, hke many other excellent habits, so far 
from being meliorated, it has been cultivated and confirmed 
by refinement and civihzation, and increases in exact propor- 
tion as we approach towards that state of perfection which is 
the ne plus ultra of modern philosophy. 

The first conflict between man and man was the mere exer- 
tion of physical force, unaided by auxihary weapons— his arm 
was his buckler, his fist was his mace, and a broken head 
the catastrophe of his encounters. The battle of unassisted 
strength was succeeded by the more rugged one of stones and 
clubs, and war assumed a sanguinary aspect. As man ad- 
vanced in refinement, as his faculties expanded, and his sen- 
sibihties became more exquisite, he grew rapidly more ingeni- 
ous and experienced in the art of murdering his fellow-beings. 
He invented a thousand devices to defend and to assault — the 
helmet, the cuirass, and the buckler, the sword, the dart, and 
the javehn, prepared him to elude the wound, as v/ell as to 
lanch l^e blow. Still urging on, in the brilliant and philan- 



* Hobbes' Leviathan. Part i. chap. 13. 

+ Quum prorepserunt primis animalia terris, 
Mutuum ac turpe pecus, glandem atque cubilia propter, 
Unguibus et pugnis, dein fustibus, atque ita porro 
Pugnabant armis, qviae post fabricaverat usus.—Hor. Sat. 1. i. s. 3. 



X82 ^ HISTORY OF NBW-YOEK 

thropic career of invention, he enlarges and heightens his 
powers of defence and injury — the Aries, the Scorpio, the 
Bahsta, and the Catapulta, give a horror and subhmity to 
war, and magnify its glory by increasing its desolation. Still 
insatiable, though armed with machinery that seemed to reach 
the hraits of destructive invention, and to yield a power of 
injury commensurate even with the desires of revenge — still 
deeper resea,rches must be made in the diabolical arcana. 
With furious zeal he dives into the bowels of the eairth ; he 
toils midst poisonous minerals and deadly salts — ^the sublime 
discovery of gunpowder blazes upon the world — and finally, 
the dreadfid art of fighting by proclamation seems to endow 
the demon of war with ubiquity and omnipotence ! 

This, indeed, is grand!— this, indeed, marks the powers of 
mind, and bespeaks that divine endowment of reason which 
disticiguishes us from the animals, our inferiors. The un- 
enhgbtened brutes content themselves with the native force 
which Providence has assigned them. The angry bull butts 
with his horns, as did his progenitors before him — the Hon, the 
leopard, and the tiger seek only with their talons and their 
fangs to gratify their sanguinary fury; and even the subtle 
serpent darts the same venom and uses the same wiles as 
did his sire before the flood. Man alone, blessed with the 
inventive mind, goes on from discovery to discovery — en- 
larges and multiplies his powers of destruction ; arrogates the 
tremendous weapons of Deity itself, and tasks creation to 
assist him in murdering his brother worm ! 

In proportion as the art of war has increased in improve- 
ment, has the art of preserving peace advanced in equal ratio ; 
and, as we have discovered, in this age of wonders and inven- 
tions, that a proclamation is the most formidable engine in 
war, so have we discovered the no less ingenious mode of 
maintainmg peace by perpetual negotiations. 

A treaty, or, to speak more correctly, a negotiation, there- 
fore, according to the accepta^on of experienced statesmen, 
learned in these matters, is no longer an attempt to accommo- 
date differences, to ascertain rights, and to establish an equi- 
table exchange of kind offices ; but a contest of skill between 
two powers, which shall overreach and take in the other. It 
is a cunning endeavour to obtain, by peaceable manoeuvre and 
the chicanery of cabinets, those advantages which a nation 
would otherwise have wrested by force of arms ; in the same 
manner that a conscientious highwayman reforms and becomes 



' A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 183 

» 
an excellent and praiseworthy citizen, contenting himself with 
cheating his neighbour out of that property he would formerly 
have seized with open violence. 

In fact, the only time when two nations can be said to be in 
a state of perfect amity, is when a negotiation is open and a 
treaty pending. Then, as there are no stipulations entered 
into, no bonds to restrain the will, no specific limits to awaken 
the captious jealousy of right implanted in our nature, as each 
party has some advantage to hope and expect from the other, 
then it is that the two nations are so gracious and friendly to 
each other ; their ministers professing the highest mutual re- 
gard, exchanging billetsdoux, making fine speeches, and in- 
dulging in all those diplomatic flirtations, coquetries, and fond- 
lings, that do so marvellously tickle the good-humour of the 
respective nations. Thus it may paradoxically be said, that 
there is never so good an understanding between two nations as 
when there is a little misunderstanding — and that so long as 
there are no terms, they are on the best terms in the world. 

I do not by any means pretend to claim the merit of having 
made the above political discovery. It has, in fact, long been 
secretly acted upon by certain enlightened cabinets, and is, 
together with divers other notable theories, privately copied 
out of the common-place book of an illustrious gentleman, who 
has been member of Congress and enjoyed the unlimited con- 
fidence of heads of departments. To this principle may be 
ascribed the wonderful ingenuity that has been shown of late 
years in protracting and interrupting negotiations. Hence the 
cunning measure of appointing as ambassador some political 
pettifogger skilled in delays, sophisms and misapprehensions, 
and dexterous in the art of baffling argument — or some blunder- 
ing statesman, whose errors and misconstructions may be a 
plea for refusing to ratify his engagements. And hence, too, 
that most notable expedient, so popular with our government, 
of sending out a brace of ambassadors ; who, having each an in- 
dividual will to consult, character to establish, and interest to 
promote, you may as well look for unanimity and concord be- 
tween two lovers with one mistress, two dogs with one bone, 
or two naked rogues with one pair of breeches. This disagree- 
ment, therefore, is continually breeding delays and impedi- 
ments, in consequence of which the negotiation goes on swim- 
mingly — insomuch as there is no prospect of its ever coming to 
a close. Notliing is lost by these delays and obstacles but 
time, and in a negotiation, according to the theory I have 



184 ^ UISTGBT OF NEW-TORK. 

exposed, all time lost is in reality so much time gained — with 
what delightful paradoxes does modern political economy- 
abound ! 

Now all that I have here advanced is so notoriously true, that 
I almost blush to take up the time of my readers with treating 
of matters which must many a time have stared them in the 
face. But the proposition to which I would most earnestly call 
their attention, is this — that though a negotiation be the most 
harmonizing of all national transactions, yet a treaty of peace 
is a great political evil, and one of the most fruitful sources of 
war. 

I have rarely seen an instance of any special contract be- 
tween individuals, that did not produce jealousies, bickerings, 
and often downright ruptures between them ; nor did I ever 
know of a treaty between two nations, that did not occasion 
continual misunderstandings. How many worthy country 
neighbours have I known, who, after Hving in peace and good- 
fellowship for years, have been thrown into a state of distrust, 
cavilling, and animosity, by some ill-starred agreement about 
fences, runs of water, and stray cattle. And how many well- 
meaning nations, who would otherwise have remained in the 
most amicable disposition towards each other, have been 
brought to sword's points about the infringement or miscon- 
struction of some treaty, which in an evil hour they had con- 
cluded by way of making their amity more sure ! 

Treaties, at best, are but comphed with so long as interest 
requires their fulfilment ; consequently, they are virtually bind- 
ing on the weaker party only, or, in plain truth, they are not 
binding at all. No nation will wantonly go to war with another, 
if it has nothing to gain thereby, and, therefore, needs no treaty 
to restrain it from violence ; and if it have any thing to gain, I 
much question, from what I have witnessed of the righteous 
conduct of nations, whether any treaty could be made so 
strong that it coidd not thrust the sword through— nay, I 
would hold, ten to one, the treaty itself would be the very 
source to which resort would be had, to find a pretext for hos- 
tihties. 

Thus, therefore, I conclude— that though it is the best of all 
policies for a nation to keep up a constant negotiation with its 
neighbours, yet it is the summit of folly for it ever to be be- 
guiled mto a treaty ; for then comes on the non-fulfilment and 
infraction, then remonstrance, then altercation, then retalia- 
tion, then recrimination, and finally open war. In a word, 



A BISTORT OF NEW-TORK. 185 

negotiation is like courtship, a time of sweet words, gallant 
speeches, soft looks, and endearing caresses ; but the marriage 
ceremony is the signal for hostilities. 



CHAPTER IV. 



HOW PETER STUYYESANT WAS GREATLY BELIED BY HIS ADYER 
SARIES, THE MOSSTROOPERS — AND HIS CONDUCT THEREUPON. 

If my pains-taking reader be not somewhat perplexed, in 
the course of the ratiocination of my last chapter, he will 
doubtless at one glance perceive that the great Peter, in con- 
cluding a treaty with his eastern neighbours, was guilty of a 
lamentable error and heterodoxy in politics. To this unlucky 
agreement may justly be ascribed a world of httle infringe- 
ments, altercations, negotiations, and bickerings, which after- 
wards took place between the irreproachable Stuyvesant, and 
the evil-disposed council of Amphyctions. AU these did not a 
httle disturb the constitutional serenity of the good burghers 
of Manna-hata ; but in sooth they were so very pitiful in their 
nature and effects, that a grave historian, who grudges the 
time spent in any thing less than recording the fall of empires, 
and the revolution of worlds, would think them unworthy to 
be inscribed on his sacred page. 

The reader is, therefore, to take it for granted, though I 
scorn to waste in the detail that time which my furrowed 
brow and trembhng hand inform me is invaluable, that all 
the while the great Peter was occupied in those tremendous 
and bloody contests that I shall shortly rehearse, there was a 
continued series of little, dirty, snivelling skirmishes, scour- 
ings, broils, and maraudings, made on the eastern frontiers, 
by the mosstroopers of Connecticut. But, like that miri'or of 
chivalry, the sage and valorous Don Quixote, I leave these 
petty contests for some future Sancho Panza of a historian, 
while I reserve my prowess and my pen for achievements of 
higher dignity. 

Now did the great Peter conclude, that his labours had come 
to a close in the east, and that he had nothing to do but apply 
himself to the internal prosperity of his beloved Manhattoes. 
Though a man of great modesty, he could not help boasting 
that he had at length shut the temple of Janus, and that, were 



186 A HISTORY OF NEW-YOBK. 

all rulers like a certain person who should be nameless, it 
would never be oi^ened again. But the exultation of the 
worthy governor was put to a speedy check ; for scarce was 
the treaty concluded, and hardly was the ink dried on the 
paper, before the crafty and discourteous council of the league 
souglit a new pretence for re-illuming the flames of discord. 

It seems to be the nature of confederacies, republics, and 
such like powers, that want the true mascuhne character, to 
indulge exceedingly in certain feminine panics and suspicions. 
Like some good lady of delicate and sickly virtue, who is in 
constant dread of having her vestal purity contaminated or 
seduced, and who, if a man do but take her by the hand, or 
look her in the face, is ready to cry out, rape ! and ruin ! — so 
these squeamish governments are perpetually on the alarm for 
the virtue of the country ; every manly measure is a violation 
of the constitution — every monarchy or other masculine gov- 
ernment around them is laying snares for their seduction ; and 
they are for ever detecting infernal plots, by which they were 
to be betrayed, dishonoured, and "brought upon the town." 

If any proof were wanting of the truth of these opinions, I 
would instance the conduct of a certain republic of our day ; 
who, good dame, has already withstood so many plots and 
conspiracies against her virtue, and has so often come near 
being made "no better than she should be." I would notice 
her constant jealousies of poor old England, who, by her own 
account, has been incessantly trying to sap her honour; 
though, from my soul, I never could beheve the honest old 
gentleman meant her any rudeness. Whereas, on the con 
trary, I think I have several times caught her squeezing hands 
and indulging in certain amorous oglings with that sad fellow 
Buonaparte — who all the world knows to be a great despoiler 
of national virtue, to have ruined aU the empires in his neigh- 
bourhood, and to have debauched every republic that came in 
his way — but so it is, these rakes seem always to gain singular 
favour with the ladies. 

But I crave pardon of my reader for thus wandering, and 
will endeavour in some measure to apply the foregoing re- 
marks ; for in the year 1651, we are told, the great confederacy 
of the east accused the immaculate Peter — the soul of honour 
and heart of steel — that by divers gifts and promises he had 
been secretly endeavouring to instigate the Narrohigansett, 
(or Narraganset) Mohaque, and Pequot Indians, to surprise 
and massacre the Yankee settlements. '' For," as the council 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 187 

slanderously observed, "the Indians round about for divers 
hundred miles cercute, seeme to have drunke deep of an in- 
toxicating cupp, att or from the Manhatoes against the Eng- 
lish, whoe have sought their good, both in bodily and spirituall 
respects." 

History does not make mention how the great council of the 
Amphyctions came by this precious plot; whether it was 
honestly bought at a fair market price, or discovered by sheer 
good fortune — it is certain, however, that they examined 
divers Indians, who all swore to the fact as sturdily as though 
they had been so many Christian troopers; and to be more 
sure of their veracity, the sage council previously made every 
mother's son of them devoutly drunk, remembering an old 
and trite proverb, wliich it is not necessary for me to repeat. 

Though descended from a family which suffered much in- 
jury from the losel Yankees of those times— my great-grand- 
father having had a yoke of oxen and his best pacer stolen, 
and having received a pair of black eyes and a bloody nose in 
one of these border wars ; and my grandfather, when a very 
little boy tending pigs, having been kidnapped and severely 
flogged by a long-sided Connecticut schoolmaster— yet I should 
have passed over all these wrongs with forgiveness and obli- 
vion — I could even have suffered them to have broken Evert 
Ducking's head, to have kicked the doughty Jacobus Van 
Curlet and his ragged regiment out of doors, carried every hog 
into captivity, and depopulated every hen-roost on the face of 
the earth, with perfect impunity. — But this wanton attack 
upon one of the most gallant and irreproachable heroes of 
modern times is too much even for me to digest, and has over- 
set, with a single puff, the patience of the historian, and the 
forbearance of the Dutchman. 

Oh, reader, it was false!— I swear to thee, it was false! if 
thou hast any respect to my word— if the undeviating charac- 
ter for veracity, which I have endeavoured to maintain 
throughout this work, has its due weight with thee, thou wilt 
not give thy faith to this tale of slander; for I pledge my 
honour and my immortal fame to thee, that the gallant Peter 
Stuyvesant was not only innocent of this foul conspiracy, but 
would have suffered his right arm, or even Ms wooden leg, to 
consume with slow and everlasting flames, rather than at- 
tempt to destroy his enemies in any other way than open, 
generous warfare— beshrew those caitiff scouts, that conspired 
to sully his honest name by such an imputation. 



188 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-TORE. 

Peter Stuy vesant, though he perhaps had never heard of a 

knight-errant, yet had he as true a heart of chivalry as ever 
beat at the round table of King Arthur. There was a spirit of 
native gallantry, a noble and generous hardihood diffused 
through his rugged manners, wliich altogether gave unques- 
tionable tokens of a heroic mind. He was, in truth, a hero of 
chivalry, struck off by the hand of Nature at a single heat, 
and though she had taken no further care to polish and refine 
her workmanship, he stood forth a miracle of her skill. 

But, not to be figurative, (a fault in historic writing which I 
particularly eschew,) the great Peter possessed, in an eminent 
degree, the seven renowned and noble virtues of knighthood, 
which, as he had never consulted authors in the disciplining 
and cultivating of his mind, I verily beheve must have been 
implanted in the corner of his heart by dame Nature herself— 
where they flourished among his hardy qualities like so many 
sweet wild flowers, shooting forth and thriving with redundant 
luxuriance among stubborn rocks. Such was the mind of 
Peter the Headstrong, and if my admiration for it has, on this 
occasion, transported my style beyond the sober gravity 
which becomes the laborious scribe of historic events, I can 
plead as an apology, that though a httle gray -headed Dutch- 
man arrived almost at the bottom of the down-hill of life, I 
still retain some portion of that celestial fire wliich sparkles in 
the eye of youth, when contemplatmg the virtues and achieve- 
ments of ancient worthies. Blessed, thrice and nine times 
blessed be the good St. Nicholas— that I have escaped the influ- 
ence of that chilling apathy, which too often freezes the sym- 
pathies of age ; which, like a churlish spirit, sits at the portals 
of the heart, repulsing every genial sentiment, a.nd paralyzing 
every spontaneous glow of enthusiasm. 

No sooner, then, did tliis scoundrel imputation on his honour 
reach the ear of Peter Stuy vesant, than he proceeded in a man- 
ner which would have redounded to his credit, even though he 
had studied for years in the hbrary of Don Quixote himself. 
He unmediately despatched his vahant trumpeter and squire, 
Antony Van Corlear, with orders to ride night and day, as 
herald, to the Amphyctionic council, reproaching them, in 
terms of noble indignation, for giving ear to the slanders of 
heathen infidels, against the character of a Christian, a gentle- 
man, and a soldier — and declaring, that as to the treacherous 
and bloody plot alleged against him, whoever affirmed it to be 
true, lied in his teeth ! — to prove which, he defied the president 



A HISTORY OF A'EW-TOBK. 189 

of the council and all his compeers, or, if they pleased, their 
puissant champion, captain Alicxsander Partridg, that mighty 
man of Ehodes, to meet him in single combat, where he 
would trust the vindication of his innocence to the prowess 
of his arm. 

This challenge being dehvered with due ceremony, Antony 
Van Corlear sounded a trumpet of defiance before the whole 
council, ending with a most horrific and nasal twang, full in 
the face of Captain Partridg, who almost jumped out of his 
skin in an ecstasy of astonishment at the noise. This done, he 
mounted a tall Flanders mare, which he always rode, and 
trotted merrily towards the Manhattoes — passing through 
Hartford, and Piquag, and Middletown, and all the other bor- 
der towns— twanging his trumpet like a very devil, so that the 
sweet vaUeys and ba.nks of the Connecticut resounded with the 
warhke melody — and stopping occasionally to eat pumpkin 
pies, dance at country frolics, and bundle with the beauteous 
iasses of those parts — whom he rejoiced exceedingly with his 
soul-stirring instrument. 

But the grand council, being composed of considerate men, 
had no idea of running a tilting with such a fiery hero as the 
hardy Peter — on the contrary, they sent him an answer 
couched in the meekest, the most mild and provoking terms, 
in which they assured him that his guilt was proved to their 
perfect satisfaction, by the testimony of divers sober and 
respectable Indians, and concluding with this truly amia- 
ble paragi-aph — " For youre confidant denialls of the Barbarous 
plott charged wiU waigh little in balance against such evi- 
dence, soe that we must still require and seeke due satisfaction 
and cecurite, so we rest. Sir, 

Youres inwayes of Eighteousness, &c." 

I am aware that the above transaction has been differently 
recorded by certain historians of the east, and elsewhere ; who 
seem to havo inherited the bitter enmity of their ancestors to 
the brave Peter— and much good may their inheritance do 
them. These declare, that Peter Stuyvesant requested to nave 
the charges against him inquired into, by comixiissioners to be 
appointed for the purpose ; and yet, that when such commis- 
sioners were appointed, he refused to submit to their examina- 
tion. In this artful account, there is but the semblance of 
truth — he did, indeed, most gallantly offer, when that he found 
a deaf ear was turned to his challenge, to submit his conduct to 
the rigorous inspection of a court of honour — but then he 



190 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

expected to find it an august tribunal, composed of courteous 
gentlemen, the governors and nobility of the confederate plj\n- 
tations, and of the province of New-Netherlands; where he 
might be tried by ins peers, in a manner worthy of his rank 
and dignity — whereas, let me perish, if they did not send to 
the Manhattoes two lean-sided hungry pettifoggers, mounted 
on Narraganset pacers, with saddle-bags under their bottoms, 
and green satchels under their arms, as though they were 
about to beat the hoof from one county court to another in 
search of a law-suit. 

The chivalric Peter, as might be expected, took no notice of 
these cunning varlets ; who, with professional industry, fell to 
prying and sifting about, in quest of ex parte evidence ; per- 
plexing divers simple Indians and old women, with their cross- 
questioning, until they contradicted and forswore themselves 
most horribly. Thus having fulfilled their errand to their own 
satisfaction, they returned to the grand council with their 
satchels and saddle-bags stuffed full of villainous rumours, 
apocryphal stories, and outrageous calumnies,— for all which 
the great Peter did not care a tobacco-stopper ; but, I warrant 
me, had they attempted to play off the same trick upon Wil- 
liam the Testy, he would have treated them both to an aerial 
gambol on his patent gallows. 

The grand council of the east held a very solemn meeting, 
on the return of their envoys ; and after they had pondered a 
long time on the situation of affairs, were upon the point of 
adjourning without being able to agree upon any thiQg. At 
this critical moment, one of those meddlesome, indefatigable 
spirits, who endeavour to establish a character for patriotism 
by blowing the bellows of party, until the whole furnace of 
politics is red-hot with sparks and cinders— and who have just 
cimning enough to know that there is no time so favourable for 
getting on the people's backs as when they are in a state of 
turmoil, and attending to every body's business but their own 
—this aspiring imp of faction, who was called a great politi- 
cian, because he had secured a seat in council by calumniating 
all his oiDponents — he, I say, conceived this a fit opportunity to 
strike a blow that should secure his popularity among his con- 
stituents who lived on the borders of Nieuw-Nederlandt, and 
were the greatest poachers in Christendom, excepting the 
Scotch border nobles. Like a second Peter the Hermit, there- 
fore, he stood forth and preached up a crusade against Peter 
Stuyvesant and his devoted city. 



A HISTORY Ob' JSEW-TOBK. 191 

He made a speech which lasted six hours, according to the 
ancient custom in these parts, in which he represented the 
Dutch as a race of impious heretics, who neither beheved in 
witchcraft, nor the sovereign virtues of horse-shoes — who left 
their country for the lucre of gain, not like themselves, for the 
enjoyment of liberty of conscience — who, in short, were a race 
of mere cannibals and anthropophagi, inasmuch as they never 
?at cod-fish on Saturday, devoured swine's flesh without mo- 
lasses, and held pumpkins in utter contempt. 

This speech had the desired effect, for the council, being 
awakened by the sergeant-at-arms, rubbed their eyes, and de- 
clared that it was just and pohtic to declare instant war 
against these unchristian anti-pumpkinites. But it was neces- 
sary that the people at large should first be prepared for this 
measure; and for this purpose the arguments of the orator 
were preached from the pulpit for several Sundays subse- 
quent, and earnestly recommended to the consideration of 
every good Christian, who professed as well as practiced the 
doctrines of meekness, charity, and the forgiveness of injuries. 
This is the first time we hear of the " drum ecclesiastic" beat- 
ing up for political recruits in our country ; and it proved of 
such signal efficacy, that it has since been called into frequent 
service throughout our Union. A cunning politician is often 
found skulking under the clerical robe, with an outside all 
religion, and an inside all political rancour. Things spiritual 
and things temporal are strangely jumbled together, hke poi- 
sons and antidotes on an apothecary's shelf ; and instead of a 
devout sermon, the simple church-going folk have often a po- 
litical pamphlet thrust down their throats, labelled with a 
pious text from Scripture. 



CHAPTER V. 



HOW THE NEW-AMSTERDAMERS BECAME GREAT IN ARMS, AND 
OP THE DIREFUL CATASTROPHE OF A MIGHTY ARMY — TO- 
GETHER WITH PETER STUYVESANT'S MEASURES TO FORTIFY 
THE CITY— AND HOW HE WAS THE ORIGINAL FOUNDER OF THE 
BATTERY. 

But, notwithstanding that the grand council, as I have 
already shown, were amazingly discreet in their proceedings 
respecting the New- Netherlands, and conducted the whole 



192 -•! iillSTORY OB' JSEW-YORK. 

with almost as much silence and mystery as does the sage 
British cabinet one of its ill-starred secret expeditions— jet did 
the ever- watchful Peter receive a;S full and accurate informa- 
tion of every movement as does the court of France of all the 
notable enterprises I have mentioned. He accordingly set 
himself to work, to render the machinations of his bitter ad- 
versaries abortive. 

I know that many will censure the precipitation of this 
stout-hearted old governor, in that he hurried into the ex- 
penses of fortification, without ascertaining whether they were 
necessary, by prudently waiting until the enemy was at the 
door. But they should recollect that Peter Stuy vesant had not 
tne benefit of an insight into the modern arcana of politics, 
and was strangely bigoted to certain obsolete maxims of the 
old school ; among which he firmly believed, that to render a 
country respected abroad, it was necessary to make it formid- 
able at home— and that a nation should place its reliance for 
peace and security more upon its own strength, than on the 
justice or good-will of its neighbours. He proceeded, therefore, 
with all diligence, to put the province and metropohs in a 
strong posture of defence. 

Among the few remnants of ingenious inventions which 
remained from the days of William the Testy, were those 
impregnable bulwarks of public safety, militia laws ; by which 
the inhabitants were obliged to turn out twice a year, with 
such mihtary equipments— as it pleased God; and were put 
under the command of very valiant tailors, and man-milliners, 
who though on ordinary occasions the meekest, pippin-hearted 
httle men in the world, were very devils at parades and courts- 
martial, when they had cocked hats on their heads, and 
swords by their sides. Under the instructions of these peri- 
odical warriors, the gallant train-bands made marvellous pro- 
ficiency in the mystery of gunpowder. They were taught to 
face to the right, to wheel to the left, to snap off empty fire- 
locks without winking, to turn a corner without any great 
uproar or irregularity, and to march through sun and rain 
from one end of the town to the other without flinching— until 
in the end they became so valorous, that they fired off blank 
cartridges, without so much as turning away their heads- 
could hear the largest field-piece discharged, without stopping 
their ears, or falling into much confusion— and would even go 
through all the fatigues and perils of a summer day's parade, 
without having their ranks much thinned by desertion ! 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TOBK. 193 

True it is, the genius of this truly pacific people was so little 
given to war, that during the intervals which occurred be- 
tween field days, they generally contrived to forget all the 
military tuition they had received; so that when they reap 
peared on parade, they scarcely knew the butt-end of the mus- 
ket from the muzzle, and invariably mistook the right shoul- 
der for the left — a mistake which, however, was soon obviated 
by chalking their left arms. But whatever might be their 
blunders and awkwardness, the sagacious Kieft declared them 
to be of but little importance— since, as he judiciously observed, 
one campaign would be of more instruction to them than a 
hundred parades ; for though two-thirds of them might be food 
for powder, yet such of the other third as did not run away 
would become most experienced veterans. 

The great Stuyvesant had no particular veneration for the 
ingenious experiments and institutions of liis shrewd predeces- 
sor, and among other things held the militia system in very 
considerable contempt, which he was often heard to call in 
joke — for he was sometimes fond of a joke — governor Kieft's 
broken reed. As, however, the present emergency was press- 
ing, he was obliged to avail himself of such means of defence 
as were next at hand, and accordingly appointed a general in- 
spection and parade of the train-bands. But oh! Mars and 
Bellona, and all ye other powers of war, both great and small, 
what a turning out was here !— Here came men without offi- 
cers, and officers without men— long fowling-pieces, and short 
blunderbusses— muskets of all sorts and sizes, some without 
bayonets, others without locks, others without stocks, and 
many without either lock, stock, or barrel — cartridge-boxes, 
shot-belts, powder-horns, swords, hatchets, snicker-snees, 
crow-bars, and broomsticks, all mingled higgledy piggledy — 
hke one of our continental armies at the breaking out of the 
revolution. 

This sudden transformation of a pacific community into a 
band of warriors, is doubtless what is meant, in modern days, 
by "putting a nation in armour," and ''fixing it in an atti- 
tude" — in which armour and attitude it makes as martial a 
figure, and as likely to acquit itself with as much prowess as 
the renowned Sancho Panza, when suddenly equipped to de- 
fend his island of Barataria. 

The sturdy Peter eyed this ragged regiment with some such 
rueful aspect as a man would eye the devil ; but knowing, hke 
a wise man, that all he had to do was to make the best out of a 



194 ^ BISTORT OF NEW- YD UK. 

bad bargain, he determined to give his heroes a seasoning. 
Having, therefore, drilled them through the manual exercise 
over and over again, he ordered the fifes to strike up a quick 
march, and trudged his sturdy troops backwards and forwards 
about the streets of New- Amsterdam, and the fields adjacent, 
until their short legs ached, and their fat sides sweated again. 
But this was not all; the martial spirit of the old governor 
caught fire from the sprightly music of the fife, and he resolved 
to try the mettle of his troops, and give them a taste of the 
hardships of iron war. To this end he encamped them, as the 
shades of evening fell, upon a hill formerly called Bunker's 
Hill, at some distance from the town, with a full intention of 
initiating them into the discipline of camps, and of renewing, 
the next day, the toils and perils of the field. But so it came 
to pass, that in the night there fell a great and heavy rain, 
which descended in torrents upon the camp, and the mighty 
army strangely melted away before it; so that when Gaffer 
Phoebus came to shed his morning beams upon the place, saving 
Peter Stuyvesant and his trumpeter, Van Corlear, scarce one 
was to be found of all the multitude that had encamped there 
the night before. 

This awful dissolution of his army would have appalled a 
commander of less nerve than Peter Stuyvesant ; but he con- 
sidered it as a matter of but small unportance, though he 
thenceforward regarded the militia system with ten times 
greater contempt than ever, and took care to provide himself 
with a good garrison of chosen men, whom he kept in pay, of 
whom he boasted that they at least possessed the quality, in- 
dispensable in soldiers, of being water-proof. 

The next care of the vigilant Stuyvesant was to strengthen 
and fortify New- Amsterdam. For this purpose, he caused to 
be built a strong picket fence, that reached across the island, 
from river to river, being intended to protect the city not 
merely from the sudden invasions of foreign enemies, but like- 
wise from the incursions of the neighbouring savages.* 

Some traditions, it is true, have ascribed the building of this 



* In an antique view of New- Amsterdam, taken some years after the above period, 
is a representation of this wall, which stretched along the course of Wall-street, so 
called in commemoration of this great bulwark. One gate, called the Land-Poort, 
opened upon Broadway, hard by where at present stands the Trinity Church; and 
another, called the Water-Poort, stood about where the Tontine Coffee-House is at 
present— opening upon Smits Vleye, or as it is commonly called. Smith Fly, then a 
marshy valley, with a creek or inlet extending up what we call Maiden-lane. 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 195 

wall to a later period, but they are wholly incorrect; for a 
memorandum in the Stuyvesant manuscript, dated towards 
the middle oi the governor's reign, mentions this wall particu- 
larly, as a very strong and curious piece of workmanship, and 
the admiration of all the savages in the neighbourhood. And 
it mentions, moreover, the alarming circumstance of a drove 
of stray cows breaking through the grand wall of a dark night; 
by which the whole community of New Amsterdam was 
thrown into a terrible panic. 

In addition to this great wall, he cast up several outworks to 
Foii; Amsterdam, to protect the sea-board, at the point of the 
island. These consisted of formidable mud batteries, solidly 
faced, after the manner of the Dutch ovens, common in those 
days, with clam-shells. 

These frowning bulwarks, in process of time, came to be 
pleasantly overrun by a verdant carpet of grass and clover, 
and their high embankments overshadowed by wide-spreading 
sycamores, among whose foliage the little birds sported about, 
rejoicing the ear with their melodious notes. The old burghers 
would repair of an afternoon to smoke their pipes under the 
shade of their branches, contemplating the golden sun as he 
gradually sunk into the west, an emblem of that tranquil end 
towards which themselves were hastening— while the young 
men and the damsels of the town would take many a moon- 
Hght stroll among these favourite haunts, watching the silver 
beams of chaste Cynthia tremble along the calm bosom of the 
bay, or light up the wliite sail of some gliding bark, and inter- 
changing the honest vows of constant affection. Such was the 
origin of that renowned walk. The Battery, which, though 
ostensibly devoted to the purpose of war, has ever been conse- 
crated to the sweet dehghts of peace. The favourite walk of 
declining age — the healthful resort of the feeble invalid — the 
Sunday refreshment of the dusty tradesman — the scene of 
many a boyish gambol— the rendezvous of many a tender as- 
signation — the comfort of the citizen — the ornament of New- 
York, and the pride of the lovely island of Manna-hata. 



196 ^ BISTORT OF NEW- YORK. 



CHAPTER VI. 

HOW THE PEOPLE OF THE EAST COUNTRY WERE SUDDENLY 
AFFLICTED WITH A DIABOLICAL EVIL— AND THEIR JUDICIOUS 
MEASURES FOR THE EXTIRPATION THEREOF. 

Having thus provided for the temporary security of New- 
Amsterdam, and guarded it against any sudden surprise, the 
gallant Peter took a hearty pinch of snuff, and, snapping his 
fingers, set the great council of Amphyctions, and their cham- 
pion, the doughty Alicxsander Partridg, at defiance. It is im- 
possible to say, notwithstanding, what might have been the is- 
sue of this affair, had not the council been all at once involved 
in sad perplexity, and as much dissension sown among its 
members, as of yore was stirred up in the camp of the brawling 
warriors of Greece. 

The council of the league, as I have shown in my last chap- 
ter, had already announced its hostile determinations, and al- 
ready was the mighty colony of New-Haven, and the puissant 
town of Piquag, otherwise called Weathersfield— famous for its 
onions and its witches— and the great trading house of Hartford, 
and all the other redoubtable border towns, in a prodigious tur- 
moil, furbishing up their rusty fowhng-pieces, and shouting 
aloud for war ; by which they anticipated easy conquests, and 
gorgeous spoils, from the little fat Dutch villages. But this 
joyous brawling was soon silenced by the conduct of the colony 
of Massachusetts. Struck with the gallant spirit of the brave 
old Peter, and convinced by the chivalric frankness and heroic 
warmth of his vindication, they refused to believe him guilty 
of the infamous plot most wrongfully laid at his door. With 
a generosity for which I would yield them immortal honour, 
they declared that no determination of the grand council of the 
league should bind the general court of Massachusetts to join 
in an offensive war which should appear to such general court 
to be unjust.* 

This refusal immediately involved the colony of Massachu- 
setts and the other combined colonies in very serious difficul- 
ties and disputes, and would no doubt have produced a dissolu- 
tion of the confederacy, but that the council of Amphyctions, 

* Haz. Col, state Papers. 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 197 

finding that they could not stand alone, if mutilated by the 
loss of so important a member as Massachusetts, were fain to 
abandon for the present their hostile machinations against the 
Manhattoes. Such is the marvellous energy and the puissance 
of those confederacies, composed of a number of sturdy, self- 
willed, discordant parts, loosely banded together by a puny 
general government. As it was, however, the warlils:e towns 
of Connecticut had no cause to deplore this disappointment of 
their martial ardour ; for by my faith — though the combined 
powers of the league might have been too potent, in the end, 
for the robustious warriors of the Manhattoes — yet in th^ in- 
terun would the lion-hearted Peter and his myrmidons have 
choked the stomachful heroes of Piquag with their own onions, 
and have given the other little border towns such a scouring, 
that I warrant they would have had no stomach to squat on 
the land, or invade the hen-roost of a New-Nederlander, for a 
century to come. 

Indeed, there was more than one cause to divert the atten- 
tion of the good people of the east from their hostile purposes ; 
for just about this time were they horribly beleaguered and 
harassed by the inroads of the prmce of darkness, divers of 
whose liege subjects they detected lurking within their camp, 
all of whom they incontinently roasted as so many spies and 
dangerous enemies. Not to speak in parables, we are in- 
formed, that at this juncture the New-England provinces 
were exceedingly troubled by multitudes of losel witches, 
who -yrought strange devices to beguile and distress the mul- 
titude; and notwithstanding numerous judicious and bloody 
laws had been enacted against all ''solemn conversing or com- 
pacting with the divil, by way of conjuracon or the like,"* 
yet did the dark crime of witchcraft continue to increase to 
an alarming degree, that would almost transcend belief, were 
not the fact too well authenticated to be feven doubted for an 
instant. 

What is particularly worthy of admiration is, that this ter- 
rible art, which so long has baffled the painful researches and 
abstruse studies of philosophers, astrologers, alchymists, the- 
urgists, and other sages, was chiefly confined to the most igno- 
rant, decrepit, and ugly old wom.e2i in the community, who 
had scarcely more brains than the broomsticks they rode 
upon. 

* New-Plymouth Record. 



198 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-IORK. 

When once an alarm, is sounded, the public, who love dearly 
to be in a panic, are not long in want of proofs to support it- 
raise but the cry of yellow fever, and immediately every head- 
ache, and indigestion, and overflowing of the bile, is pro- 
nounced the terrible epidemic. In like manner, in the pres- 
ent instance, whoever was troubled with colic or lumbago, was 
sure to be bewitched; and woe to any unlucky old woman 
that lived in his neighbourhood. Such a howling abomination 
could not be suffered to remain long unnoticed, and it accord- 
ingly soon attracted the fiery indignation of the sober and re- 
flective part of the community— more especially of those, who, 
whilome, had evinced so much active benevolence in the con- 
version of Quakers and Anabaptists. The grand council of 
the Amphyctions pubHcly set their faces against so deadly and 
dangerous a sin ; and a severe scrutiny took place after those 
nefarious witches, who were easily detected by devil's pinches, 
black cats, broomsticks, and the circumstance of their only 
being able to weep three tears, and those out of the left eye. 

It is incredible the number of offences that were detected, 
"for every one of which," says the profound and reverend 
Cotton Mather, in that excellent work, the History of New- 
England — "we have such a sufflcient evidence, that no rea- 
sonable man in this whole country ever did question them ; 
and it will he unreasonable to do it in any other. ^""^ 

Indeed, that authentic and judicious historian, John Jos- 
selyn, Gent., furnishes us with unquestionable facts on this 
subject. "There are none," observes he, "that beg in this 
country, but there be witches too many — bottle-bellied witches 
and others, that produce many strange apparitions, if you will 
believe report, of a shallop at sea manned with women— and 
of a ship, and great red horse standing by the mainmast ; the 
ship being in small cove to the eastward, vanished of a sud- 
den," etc. 

The number of delinquents, however, and their magical de- 
vices, were not more remarkable than their diabohcal obsti- 
nacy. Though exhorted in the^ost solemn, persuasive, and 
affectionate manner, to confess themselves guilty, and be 
burnt for the good of rehgion, and the entertainment of the 
public ; yet did they most pertinaciously persist in asserting 
their innocence. Such incredible obstinacy was in itself de- 
serving of immediate punishment, and was sufficient proof, if 

* Mather's Hist. New-Eng., b. 6, ch, 7. 



A msrOET OP XEW-TORK. 199 

proof were necessary, that they were in league with the devil, 
who is perverseness itself. But their judges were just and 
merciful, and were determined to punish none that were not 
convicted on the best of testimony ; not that they needed any 
evidence to satisfy their own minds, for, like true and experi- 
enced judges, their minds were perfectly made up, and they 
were thorouglily satisfied of the guilt of the prisoners, before 
'they proceeded to try them ; but still something was necessary 
to convince the community at large— to quiet those prying 
quidnuncs who should come after them— in short, the world 
must be satisfied. Oh, the world— the world!— all the world 
knows the world of trouble the world is eternally occasioning ! 
—The worthy judges, therefore, were driven to the necessity 
of sifting, detecting, and making evident as noon-day, matters 
which were at the commencement ail clearly understood and 
firmly decided upon in their own pericraniums -so that it may 
truly be said that the witches were burnt to gratify the popu- 
lace of the day— but were tried for the satisfaction of the whole 
world that should come after them. 

Finding, therefore, that neither exhortation, sound reason, 
nor friendly entreaty had any avail on these hardened offend- 
ers, they resorted to the more urgent arguments of the tor- 
ture, and having thus absolutely wrung the truth from their 
stubborn lips, they condemned them to undergo the roasting 
due unto the heinous crimes they had confessed. Some even 
carried their perverseness so far as to expire under the torture, 
protesting their innocence to the last ; but these were looked 
upon as thoroughly and absolutely possessed by the devil, and 
the pious by-standers only lamented that they had not lived a 
little longer, to have perished in the flames. 

In the city of Ephesus, we are told that the plague was ex- 
pelled by stoning a ragged old beggar to death, whom Appo- 
lonius pointed out as being the evil spirit that caused it, and 
who actually showed himself to be a demon, by changing into 
a shagged dog. In lik»e manner, and by measures equally sa- 
gacious, a salutary check was given to this growing evil. The 
witches were all burnt, banished, or panic-struck, and in a 
little while there was not an ugly old woman to be found 
throughout New-England — which is doubtless one reason why 
all the young women there are so handsome. Those honest 
folk who had suffered from their incantations gradually recov- 
ered, excepting such as had been afflicted with twitches and 
aches, which, however, assumed the less alarming aspect of 



200 A HISTORY OF NEW-YOHK. 

rheumatism, sciatics, and lumbagos— and the good people ot 
Ne Jv-England, abandoning the study of the occult sciences, 
turned their attention to the more profitable hocus-pocus of 
trade, and soon became expert in the legerdemain art of turn- 
ing a penny. Still, however, a tinge of the old leaven is dis- 
cernible, even unto this day, in their characters — witches oc- 
casionally start up among them in different disguises, as 
physicians, civilians, and divines. The people at large show 
a keenness, a cleverness, and a profundity of wisdom that 
savours strongly of witchcraft — and it has been remarked, 
that whenever any stones fall from the moon, the greater part 
of them are sm e to tumble into New-England I 



CHAPTER VII. 



WHICH RECORDS THE RISE AND RENOWN OF A VALIANT COM- 
MANDER, SHOWING THAT A MAN, LIKE A BLADDER, MAY BE 
PUFFED IJP TO GREATNESS AND IMPORTANCE BY MERE WIND. 

When treating of these tempestuous times, the unknown 
writer of the Stuyvesant manuscript breaks out into a vehe- 
ment apostrophe, in praise of the good St. Nicholas ; to whose 
protecting care he entirely ascribes the strange dissensions 
that broke out in the council of the Amphyctions, and the 
direful witchcraft that prevailed in the east country — whereby 
the hostile machinations against the Nederlanders were for a 
time frustrated, and his favourite city of New-Amsterdam 
preserved from imminent peril and deadly warfare. Darkness 
and lowering superstition hung over the fair valleys of the 
east ; the pleasant banks of the Connecticut no longer echoed 
with the sounds of rustic gayety ; direful phantoms and por 
tentous apparitions were seen in the air— ghding spectrums 
haunted every wild brook and dreary glen— strange voices, 
made by viewless forms, were heard in desert solitudes— and 
the border towns were so occupied in detecting and punishing 
the knowing old women who had produced these alarming ap- 
pearances, that for a while the province of Nieuw-Nederlandt 
and its inhabitants were totally forgotten. 

The nreat Peter, therefore, finding that nothing was to be 
immediately apprehended from his eastern neighbours, turned 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 201 

himself about, with a praiseworthy vigilance that ever dis- 
tinguished him, to put a stop to the insults of the Swedes. 
These freebooters, my attentive reader will recollect, had be- 
gun to be very troublesome towards the latter part of the reign 
of Wilham the Testy, having set the proclamations of that 
doughty little governor at nought, and put the intrepid Jan 
Jansen Alpendam to a perfect nonplus ! 

Peter Stuyvesant, however, as has already been shown, was 
a governor of different habits and turn of mind — ^without more 
ado, he unmediately issued orders for raising a corps of troops 
to be stationed on the southern frontier, under the command 
of brigadier-general Jacobus Van Poffenburgh. This illustri- 
ous warrior had risen to great importance during the reign of 
Wilhelmus Kieft, and if histories speak true, was second in 
command to the hapless Van Cmiet, when he and his ragged 
regiment were inhumanly kicked out of Fort Good Hope by 
the Yankees. In consequence of having been in such a "mem- 
orable affair," and of having received more wounds on a cer- 
tain honourable part that shall be nameless than any of his 
comrades, he was ever after considered as a hero, who had 
"seen some service." Certain it is, he enjoyed the unhmited 
confidence and friendship of William the Testy ; who would 
sit for hours, and listen with wonder to his gunpowder narra- 
tives of surprising victories— he had never gained ; and dread- 
ful battles— from which he had run away. 

It was tropically observed by honest old Socrates, that 
heaven had infused into some men at their birth a portion of 
intellectual gold; into others of intellectual silver; while others 
were bounteously furnished out with abundance of brass and 
iron- now of this last class was imdoubtedly the great Gen- 
eral Van Poffenburgh; and from the display he continually 
made thereof, I am inclined to think that dame Nature, who 
will sometimes be partial, had blessed him with enough of 
those valuable materials to have fitted up a dozen ordinary 
braziers. But what is most to be admired is, that he contrived 
to pass off all his brass and copper upon Wilhelmus Kieft, who 
was no great judge of base coin, as pure and genuine gold. 
The consequence was, that upon the resignation of Jacobus 
Van Curlet, who, after the loss of Fort Good Hope, retired, 
hke •a veteran general, to live under the shade of his laurels, 
the mighty "copper captain" was promoted to his station. 
This he fiUed with great importance, always styling himself 
commander-in-chief of the armies of New Netherlands ;" though, 



202 ^ HISTORY OF NEW YORK. 

to tell the truth, the armies, or rather army, consisted of a 
handful of hen-stealing, bottle-bruising ragamuffins. 

Such was the character of the warrior appointed by Peter 
Stuyvesant to defend his southern frontier; nor may it be un- 
interesting to my reader to have a glimpse of his person. He 
was not very tall, but notwithstanding, a huge, full-bodied 
man, whose bulk did not so much arise from his being fa.t, as 
windy, being so completely inflated with his own importance, 
that he resembled one of those bags of wind which ^olus, in 
an incredible fit of generosit}', gave to that wandering warrior 
Ulysses. 

His dress comported with his character, for he had almost 
as much brass and copper without as nature had stored away 
within — his coat was crossed and slashed, and carbonadoed 
with stripes of copper lace, and swathed round the body with 
a crimson sash, of the size and texture of a fishing-net, doubt- 
less to keep his valiant heart from bursting through his ribs. 
His head and whiskers were profusely powdered, from the 
midst of which his full-blooded face glowed hke a fiery fur- 
nace ; and his magnanimous soul seemed ready to bounce out 
at a pair of large, glassy, blinking eyes, which projected like 
those of a lobster. ^ 

I swear to thee, worthy reader, if report beUe not this war- 
rior, I would give all the money in my pocket to have seen 
him accoutred cap-a-pie, in martial array — booted to the mid- 
dle — sashed to the chin — collared to the ears— whiskered to the 
teeth— crowned with an overshadowing cocked hat, and girded 
with a leathern belt ten inches broad, from ivhich trailed a 
falchion, of a length that I dare not mention. Thus equipped, 
he strutted about, as bitter-looking a man of war as the far- 
famed More of More Hall, when he sallied forth, armed at all 
points, to slay the Dragon of Wantley.* 

Notwithstanding all these great endowments and transcend- 
ent qualities of this renov/ned general, I must confess he was 
not exactly the kind of man that the gallant Peter would have 

* '.' Had you but seen him in his dress, 
How fierce he look'd and how big; 
You would have thought him for to be 
Some Egyptian Porcupig. 

" He frighted all, cats, dogs, and all, 
Each cow, each horse, and each hog; 
For fear they did flee, for they took him to be 
Some strange outlandish hedge-hog." 

—Ballad of Drag, of Want. 



A mSTORY OF NEW-YORK. 203 

chosen to command his troops — but the truth is, that in those 
days the province did not abound, as at present, in great mili- 
tary characters ; who, hke so many Cincinnatuses, people every 
httle village — marshalhng out cabbages instead of soldiers, and 
signalizing themselves in the corn-field, instead of the field of 
battle ; — who have surrendered the toils of war for the more 
useful but inglorious arts of peace ; and so blended the laurel 
with the ohve, that you may have a general for a landlord, a 
colonel for a stage-driver, and your horse shod by a valiant 
" captain of volunteers." The redoubtable General Van Poffen- 
burgh, therefore, was appointed to the command of the new- 
levied troops, cMefly because there were no competitors for the 
station, and partly because it Avould have been a breach of 
military etiquette to have appointed a younger officer over his 
head — an injustice which the great Peter would have rather 
died than have committed. 

No sooner did this thrice-valiant copper captain receive 
marching orders, than he conducted his army undauntedly to 
the southern frontier : through wild lands and savage deserts ; 
over insurmountable mountains, across impassable floods, and 
through impenetrable forests; subduing a vast tract of unin- 
habited country, and encountering more perils, according to his 
own account, than did ever the great Xenophon in his far- 
famed retreat with his ten thousand Grecians. All this ac- 
complished, he estabhshed on the South (or Delaware) river, a 
redoubtable redoubt, named Fort Casimir, in honour of a 
favourite pair of brimstone-coloured trunk breeches of the 
governor. As this fort will be found to give rise to very im- 
poi'tant and interesting events, it may be worth while to notice 
that it was afterwards called Nieuw-Amstel, and was the ori- 
ginal germ of the present flourishing town of New-Castle, 
an appellation erroneously substituted for No Castle, there 
neither being, nor ever having been, a castle, or any thing of 
the kind, upon the premises. 

The Swedes did not suffer tamely this menacing movement 
of the Nederlanders ; on the contrary, Jan Printz, at that time 
governor of New-Sweden, issued a protest against what he 
termed an encroachment upon his jurisdiction. But Van Pof- 
fenburgh had become too weU versed in the nature of procla- 
mations and protests, while he served under Wilham the Testy, 
to be in any wise daunted by such paper warfare. His fortress 
being finished, it would have done any man's heart good to be- 
hold into what a magnitude he unmediately swelled. He would 



204 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

stride in and out a dozen times a day, surveying it in front and 
in rear ; on this side and on that. Then would he dress himself in 
full regimentals, and strut backwards and forwards, for hours 
together, on the top of his little rampart — like a vain-glorious 
cock-pigeon, vapouring on the top of his coop. In a word, un- 
less my readers have noticed, with curious eye, the petty com- 
mander of one of our little, snivelling military posts, swelKng 
with all the vanity of new regimentals, and the pomposity 
derived from commanding a handful of tatterdemalions, I de- 
spair of giving them any adequate idea of the prodigious dig- 
nity of General Von Poffenburgh. 

It is recorded, in the delectable romance of Pierce Forest, that 
a young knight being dubbed by king Alexander, did inconti- 
nently gallop into an adjoining forest, and belaboured the trees 
with such might and main, that the whole court was convinced 
that he was the most potent and courageous gentleman on the 
face of the earth. In like manner the great Van Poftenburgh 
would ease off that valorous spleen, which like wind is so apt to 
gi'ow so unruly in the stomachs of new-made soldiers, impel- 
ling them to box-lobby brawls and broken-headed quarrels. 
For at such times, when he found his martial spirit waxing hot 
within him, he would prudently sally forth into the fields, and 
lugging out his trusty sabre, would lay about him most lustily, 
decapitating cabbages by platoons ; hewing down whole pha- 
lanxes of sunflowers, which he termed gigantic Swedes ; and if, 
perad venture, he espied a colony of honest, big- bellied pump- 
kins quietly basking themselves in the sun, ' ' Ah, caitiff Yan- 
kees," would he roar, "have I caught ye at last?" — so saymg, 
with one sweep of his sword, he would cleave the unhappy 
vegetables from their chins to their waistbands ; by which war- 
like havoc his choler being in some sort allayed, he would 
return to his garrison with a full conviction that he was a very 
miracle of military prowess. 

The next ambition of General Van Poffenburgh was to be 
thought a strict disciplinarian. Well knowing that disci- 
pline is the soul of all military enterprise, he enforced it with 
the most rigorous precision; obhging every man to turn out 
his toes and hold up his head on parade, and prescribing the 
breadth of their ruffles to all such as had any shirts to their 
backs. 

Having one day, in the course of his devout researches in 
the Bible, (for the pious Eneas himself could not exceed him in 
outward religion,) encountered the history of Absalom and his 



A BISTORT OF NEW-TORK. 205 

melancholy end, the general, in an evil hour, issued orders for 
cropping the hair of both officers and men throughout the gar- 
rison. Now it came to pass, that among his officers was one 
Kildermeester, a sturdy veteran, who had cherished, through 
the course of a long life, a rugged mop of hair, not a little re- 
sembhng the shag of a Newfoundland dog, terminating with 
an immoderate queue Uke the handle of a frying-pan; and 
queued so tightly to his head, that his eyes and mouth gener- 
ally stood ajar, and his eyebrows were drawn up to the top of 
his forehead. It may naturally be supposed that the possessor 
of so goodly an appendage would resist with abhorrence an 
order condemning it to the shears. On hearing the general 
orders, he discharged a tempest of veteran, soldier-like oaths, 
and dunder and blixums — swore he would break any man's 
Head who attempted to meddle with his tail— queued it stiffer 
than ever, and whisked it about the garrison as fiercely as the 
tail of a crocodile. 

The eel-skin queue of old Kildermeester became instantly an 
affair of the utmost importance. The commander-in-chief w:as 
too enlightened an officer not to perceive that the disciphne of 
the garrison, the subordination and good order of the armies 
of the Nieuw-Nederlandts, the consequent safety of the whole 
province, and ultimately the dignity and prosperity of their 
High Mightinesses, the Lords States General, but above all, the 
dignity of the great General Van Poffenburgh, all imperiously 
demanded the docking of that stubborn queue. He therefore 
determined that old Kildermeester should be publicly shorn of 
his glories in the presence of the whole garrison — the old man 
as resolutely stood on the defensive — whereupon the general, 
as became a great man, was highly exasperated, and the offen- 
der was arrested and tried by a court-martial for mutiny, de- 
sertion, and all the other list of offences noticed in the articles 
of war, ending with a " videhcet, in wearing an eel-skin queue, 
three feet long, contrary to orders." — Then came on arraign- 
ments, and trials, and pleadings ; and the whole country was in 
a ferment about this unfortunate queue. As it is well known 
that the commander of a distant frontier post has the power of 
acting pretty much after his own will, there is little doubt that 
the veteran would have been hanged or shot at least, had he 
not luckily fallen ill of a fever, through mere chagrin and mor- 
tification—and most flagitiously deserted from all earthly com- 
mand, with his beloved locks un violated. His obstinacy re- 
mained unshaken to the very last moment, when he directed 



206 -4 in STORY OF NEW- YORK. 

that he should be carried to his grave Avith his oei-oKHi ^.^aue 
sticking out of a. holo in his coffin. 

This magnanimous atrair obtained the general great credit as 
cm excellent disciplinarian, but it is hinted that he was ever 
after subject to bad dreams and fearful visitations in the night 
— when the grizzly spectrum of old Kildermeester would stand 
sentinel by his bed-side, erect as a pump, his enormous queue 
strutting out like the handle. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 207 



BOOK VI. 

CONTAINING THE SECOND PART OF THE REIGN OF 
PETER THE HEADSTRONG, AND HIS GALLANT 
ACHIEVEMENTS ON THE DELAWARE, 



CHAPTER I. 



IN WHICH IS EXHIBITED A WARLIKE PORTRAIT OF THE GREAT 
PETER— AND HOW GENERAL VAN POFFENBURGH DISTINGUISHED 
HIMSELF AT FORT CASIMIR. 

Hitherto, most venerable and courteous reader, have I 
shown thee the administration of the valorous Stuyvesant, 
under the mild moonshine of peace, or rather the grim tran- 
quiUity of awful expectation ; but now the war-drum rumbles 
from afar, the brazen trumpet brays its thrilling note, and the 
rude clash of hostile arms speaks fearful prophecies of coming 
troubles. The gallant warrior starts from soft repose, from 
golden visions, and voluptuous ease; where, in the dulcet, 
"piping time of peace," he sought sweet solace after all his 
toils. No more in beauty's syren lap reclined, he weaves fair 
garlands for his lady's brows ; no more entwines with flowers 
his shining sword, nor through the Hve-long lazy summer's day 
chants forth his lovesick soul in madrigals. To manhood 
roused, he spurns the amorous flute; doffs from his brawny 
back the robe ^f peace, and clothes his pampered hmbs in 
panoply of steel. O'er his dark brow, where late the myrtle 
waved, where wanton roses breathed enervate love, he rears 
the beaming casque and nodding plume; grasps the bright 
shield and shakes the ponderous lance ; or mounts with eager 
pride his fiery steed, and bums for deeds of glorious chivalry 1 

But soft, worthy reader! I would not have you imagine, 
that any preux chevalier, thus hideously begirt with iron, 
existed in the city of New- Amsterdam. This is but a lofty and 
gigantic mode in which heroic writers always talk of war, 
thereby to give it a noble and imposing aspect ; equipping our 



208 ^ HIISTORT OF NEW-TOBK. 

warriors with bucklers, helms, and lances, and such like out- 
landish and obsolete weapons, the Hke of which perchance they 
had never seen or heard of; in the same manner that a cunning 
statuary arrays a modern general or an admiral in the ac- 
coutrements of a Caesar or an Alexander. The simple truth, 
then, of all this oratorical flourish is this — that the valiant 
Peter Stuy vesant all of a sudden found it necessary to scour 
his trusty blade, wliich too long had rusted in its scabbard, 
and prepare himself to undergo those hardy toils of war in 
which his mighty soul so much delighted. 

Methinks I at this moment behold him in my imagination — 
or rather, I behold his goodly portrait, which still hangs up in 
the family mansion of the Stuyvesants— arrayed in all the ter- 
rors of a true Dutch general. His regimental coat of German 
blue, gorgeously decorated with a goodly show of large brass 
buttons reaching from his waistband to his chin. The volum- 
inous skirts turned up at the corners, and separating gallantly 
behind, so as to display the seat of a sumptuous pair of brim- 
stone-coloured trimk breeches— a gi-aceful style still prevalent 
among the warriors of our day, and which is in conformity to 
the custom of ancient heroes, who scorned to defend themselves 
in the rear. His face rendered exceedingly terrible and war- 
like by a pair of black mustachios ; his hair strutting out on 
each side in stiffly pomatumed ear-locks, and descending in a 
rat-tail queue below his waist ; a shining stock of black leather 
supporting his chin, and a httle but fierce cocked hat stuck 
mth a gallant and fiery air over his left eye. Such was the 
chivalric port of Peter the Headstrong; and when he made a 
sudden halt, planted himself firmly on his solid supporter, with 
his wooden leg inlaid with silver, a little in advance, in order 
to strengthen his position, his right hand grasping a gold- 
headed cane, his left resting upon the pummel of his sword ; 
his head dressing spiritedly to the right, with a jnost appalling 
a,nd hard-favoured frown upon his brow — he presented al- 
together one of the most commanding, bitter-looking, and 
soldier-like figures that ever strutted upon canvas. Proceed 
we now to inquire the cause of this warlike preparation. 

The encroaching disposition of the Swedes, on the South, or 
Delaware river, has been duly recorded in the chronicles of 
the reign of William the Testy. These encroachments having 
been endured with that heroic magnanimity which is the 
corner-stone of true courage, had been repeatedly and wickedly 
aggravated. 



A IIISTORT OF NEW- YORK. 209 

The Swedes, who were of that class of cunning pretenders 
to Christianity, who read the Bible upside-down, whenever it 
interferes with their interests, inverted the golden maxim, and 
when their neighbour suffered them to smite him on the one 
cheek, they generally smote him on the other also, whether 
turned to them or not. Their repeated aggressions had been 
among the numerous sources of vexation that conspired to keep 
the irritable sensibilities of Willielmus Kief t in a constant fever, 
and it was only owing to the unfortunate circumstance, that he 
had always a hundred things to do at once, that he did not take 
such unrelenting vengeance as their offences merited. But 
they had now a chieftain of a different character to deal with ; 
and they were soon guilty of a piece of treachery, that threw 
his honest blood into a ferment, and precluded all further 
sufferance. 

Printz, the governor of the province of New-Sweden, being 
either deceased or removed, for of this fact some uncertainty 
exists, was succeeded by Jan Eisingh, a gigantic Swede, and who, 
had he not been rather knock-kneed and splay-footed, might 
have served for the model of a Samson or a Hercules. He was 
no less rapacious than mighty, and withal as crafty as he was 
rapacious; so that, in fact, there is very little doubt, had he 
hved some four or five centuries before, he would have been 
one of those wicked giants, who took such a cruel pleasure in 
pocketing distressed damsels, when gadding about the world, 
and locking them up in enchanted castles, without a toilet, a 
change of linen, or any other convenience — in consequence of 
which enormities, they fell under the high displeasure of 
chivalry, and all true, loyal, and gallant knights were instructed 
to attack and slay outright any miscreant they might happen 
to find, above six feet high ; which is doubtless one reason that 
the race of large men is nearly extinct, and the generations of 
latter ages so exceeding small. 

No sooner did Governor Risingh enter upon his office, than 
he immediately cast his eyes upon the unportant post of Fort 
Casimir, and formed the righteous resolution of taking it into 
his possession. The only thing that remained to consider, was 
the mode of carrying his resolution into effect ; and here I must 
do him the justice to say, that he exhibited a humanity rarely 
to be met with among leaders, and which I have never seen 
equalled in modern times, excepting among the English, in 
their glorious affair at Copenhagen. Willing to spare the 
effusion of blood, and the miseries of open warfare, he benevo- 



210 ^ BISTORT OF NEW-TORE:. 

lently shunned everything like avowed hostlHty or regular 
siege, and resorted to the less glorious, but more merciful 
expedient of treachery. 

Under pretence, therefore, of paying a neighbourly visit to 
General Van Poffenburgh, at his new post of Fort Casunir, he 
made requisite preparation, sailed in great state up the Dela- 
ware, displayed his flag with the most ceremonious punctilio, 
and honoured the fortress with a royal salute, previous to 
dropping anchor. The unusual noise awakened a veteran 
Dutch sentinel, who was napping faithfidly at his post, and 
who, having suffered his match to go out, contrived to return 
the compliment, by discharging his rusty musket with the 
spark of a pipe, which he borrowed from one of his comrades. 
The salute indeed would have been answered by the guns of the 
fort, had they not unfortunately been out of order, and the mag- 
azine deficient in ammunition — accidents to which forts have 
in aU ages been liable, and which were the more excusable 
in the present instance, as Fort Casimir had only been erected 
about two years, and General Van Poffenburgh, its mighty 
commander, had been fully occupied with matters of much 
greater importance. 

Eisingh, highly satisfied with this courteous reply to his 
salute, treated the fort to a second, for he well knew its com- 
mander was marvellously delighted with these Httle ceremo- 
nials, which he considered as so many acts of homage paid 
unto his greatness. He then landed in great state, attended 
by a suite of thirty men — a prodigious and vain-glorious 
retinue, for a petty governor of a petty settlement, in those 
days of primitive simplicity ; and to the full as great an army 
as generally swells the pomp and marches in the rear of our 
frontier commanders, at the present day. 

The number, in fact, might have awakened suspicion, had 
not the mind of the great Van Poffenburgh been so completely 
engrossed with an all-pervading idea of himseff, that he had 
not room to admit a thought besides. In fact, he considered the 
concourse of Risingh's followers as a compHment to himself — 
so apt are great men to stand between themselves and the sun, 
and completely eclipse the truth by their own shadow. 

It may readily be imagined how much General Van Poffen- 
burgh was flattered by a visit from so august a personage ; his 
only embarrassment was, how he should receive him in such a 
manner as to appear to the greatest advantage, and make the 
most advantageous impression. The main guard was ordered 



A HISTORY OF MEW- YORK. 211 

immediately to turn out, and the arms and regimentals (of 
which the garrison possessed full half-a-dozen suits) were 
equally distributed among the soldiers. One tall lank fellow 
appeared in a coat intended for a small man, the skirts of 
which reached a little below his waist, the buttons were 
between his shoulders, and the sleeves half-way to his wrists, 
so that his hands looked Hke a couple of huge spades— and the 
coat, not being large enough to meet in front, was linked 
together by loops, made of a pair of red worsted garters. An- 
other had an old cocked hat stuck on the back of his head, and 
decorated with a bunch of cocks' tails — a third had a pair of 
rasty gaiters hanging about his heels— while a fourth, who was 
short and duck-legged, was equipped in a huge pair of the gen- 
eral's cast-off breeches, which he held up with one hand, while 
he grasped his firelock with the other. The rest were accoutred 
in similar style, excepting three graceless ragamuffins, who 
had no shirts, and but a pair and a half of breeches between 
them, wherefore they were sent to the black hole to keep them 
out of view. There is nothing in which the talents of a pru- 
dent conunander are more completely testified, than in thus 
setting matters off to the greatest advantage ; and it is for this 
reason that our frontier posts of the present day (that of 
Niagara for example) display their best suit of regimentals on 
the back of the sentinel who stands in sight of travellers. 

His men being thus gallantly arrayed— those who lacked 
muskets shouldering spades and pickaxes, and every man 
being ordered to tuck in his shirt-tail and pull up his brogues 
—General Van Poffenburgh first took a sturdy draught of 
foaming ale, which, Hke the magnanimous More of Morehall,* 
was his invariable practice on all great occasions— which done, 
he put himself at their head, ordered the pine planks, which 
served as a draw-bridge, to be laid down, and issued forth 
from his castle like a mighty giant just refreshed with wine. 
But when the two heroes met, then began a scene of warlike 
parade and chivalric courtesy that beggars all description— 
Risingh, who, as I before hinted, was a shrewd, cunning poli- 
tician, and had grown gray much before his time, in conse- 
quence of his craftiness, saw at one glance the ruhng passion 



' as soon as he rose, 

To make him strong and mighty. 
He drank by the tale, six pots of ale 
And a quart of aqua-vitas." 



212 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

of the great Van Poffenburgh, and humoured him in all his 
valorous fantasies. 

Their detachments were accordingly drawn up in front of 
each other ; they carried arms and they presented arms ; they 
gave the standing salute and the passing salute — they rolled 
their drums and flourished their fifes, and they waved their 
colours — they faced to the left, and they faced to the right, and 
they faced to the right about— they wheeled forward, and they 
wheeled backward, and they wheeled into echellon — they 
marched and they countermarched, by grand divisions, by 
single divisions, and by sub-divisions— by platoons, by sections, 
and by files— m quick time, in slow time, and in no time at 
all : for, having gone through all the evolutions of two great 
armies, including the eighteen manoeuvres of Dundas, having 
exhausted all that they could recollect or imagine of mihtary 
tactics, including sundry strange and irregular evolutions, the 
like of which was never seen before nor since, excepting among 
certain of our newly-raised militia, the two great commanders 
and their respective troops came at length to a dead halt, com- 
pletely exhausted by the toils of war. Never did two valiant 
train-band captains, or two buskined theatric heroes, in the re- 
nowned tragedies of Pizarro, Tom Thumb, or any other 
heroical and fighting tragedy, marshal their gallows-looking, 
duck-legged, heavy-heeled myrmidons with more glory and 
self -admiration. 

These military compliments being finished, General Van 
Poifenburgh escorted his illustrious visitor, with great cere- 
mony, into the fort; attended him throughout the fortifica- 
tions ; showed him the horn- works, crown- works, half -moons, 
and various other outworks ; or rather the places where they 
ought to be erected, and where they might be erected if he 
pleased ; plainly demonstrating that it was a place of ' ' great 
capability," and though at present but a little redoubt, yet 
that it evidently was a formidable fortress, in embryo. This 
survey over, he next had the whole garrison put under arms, 
exercised and reviewed, and concluded by ordering the three 
Bridewell birds to be hauled out of the black hole, brought 
up to the halberts and soundly flogged for the amusement of 
hib visitor, and to convince him that he was a great discipli- 
narian. 

The cunning Risingh, while he pretended to be struck dumb 
outright, with the puissance of the great Van Poffenburgh, 
took silent note of the incompetency of his garrison, of which 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YOBK. 213 

he gave a hint to his trusty followers, who tipped each other 
the wink, and laughed most obstreperously — in their sleeves. 

The inspection, review, and flogging being concluded, the 
party adjourned to the table ; for among his other great quali- 
ties, the general was remarkably addicted to huge entertain- 
ments, or rather carousals, and in one afternoon's campaign 
would leave more dead men on the field than he ever did in 
the whole course of his mihtary career. Many bulletins of 
these bloodless victories do still remain on record; and the 
whole province was once thrown in a maze by the return of 
one of his campaigns; wherein it was stated that though, like 
Captain Bobadil, he had only twenty men to back him, yet in 
the short space of six months he had conquered and utterly 
annihilated sixty oxen, ninety hogs, one hundred sheep, ten 
thousand cabbages, one thousand bushels of potatoes, one 
hundred and fifty kilderkins of small-beer, two thousand 
seven hundred and thirty-five pipes, seventy-eight pounds of 
sugar-plums, and forty bars of iron, besides sundry small 
meats, game, poultry, and garden stuff: — An achievement un- 
paralleled since the days of Pantagruel and his all-devouring 
army, and which showed that it was only necessary to let 
belhpotent Van Poffenburgh and his garrison loose in an 
enemy's country, and in a little while they would breed r. 
famine and starve all the inhabitants. 

No sooner, therefore, had the general received the first in> 
timation of the visit of Governor Eisingh, than he ordered a 
great dinner to be prepared ; and privately sent out a detach- 
ment of liis most experienced veterans to rob all the hen- 
roosts in the neighbourhood and lay the pig-sties under con- 
tribution ; a service to which they had been long inured, and 
Avhich they discharged A\dth such incredible zeal and prompti- 
tude that the garrison table groaned under the weight of their 
spoils. 

I wish, with all my heart, my readers could see the valiant 
Van Poffenburgh, as he presided at the head of the banquet ; 
it was a sight worth beholding : — there he sat, in his greatest 
glory, surrounded by his soldiers, like that famous wme-bib- 
ber, Alexander, whose thirsty virtues he did most ably imitate 
— telling astounding stories of his hair-breadth adventures and 
heroic exploits, at which, though all his auditors knew them 
to be most incontinent and outrageous gasconadoes, yet did 
yhey cast up their eyes in admiration and utter many inter- 
jections of astonishment. Nor could tha general pronounce 



214 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 

any thing that bore the remotest semblance to a joke, but the 
stout Eisingh would strike his brawny fist upon the table till 
every glass rattled again, throwing himself back in the chair 
and uttering gigantic peals of laughter, swearing most horribly 
it was the best joke he ever heard in his hfe. — Thus all was rout 
and revelry and hideous carousal within Fort Casimir, and 
so lustily did Van Poffenburgh ply the bottle, that in less than 
four short hours he made himself and his whole garrison, who 
all sedulously emulated the deeds of their chieftain, dead 
drunk, and singing songs, quaffing bumpers, and drinking 
patriotic toasts, none of which but was as long as a Welsh 
pedigree or a plea in chancery. 

No sooner did things come to this pass, than the crafty 
Eisingh and his Swedes, who had cunningly kept themselves 
sober, rose on their entertainers, tied them neck and heels, and 
took formal possession of the fort, and all its dependencies, in 
the name of Queen Christina of Sweden : administering at the 
same time an oath of allegiance to all the Dutch soldiers who 
could be made sober enough to swallow it. Eisingh then put 
the fortification in order, appointed his discreet and vigilant 
friend, Suen Scutz, a tall, wind-dried, water-drinking Swede, 
to the command, and departed, bearing with him tliis truly 
amiable garrison, and their puissant commander ; who, when 
brought to himself by a sound drubbing, bore no little resem- 
blance to a " deboshed fish," or bloated sea-monster, caught 
upon dry land. 

The transportation of the garrison was done to prevent the 
transmission of intelHgence to New-Amsterdam ; for, much as 
the cunning Eisingh exulted in his stratagem, he dreaded the 
vengeance of the sturdy Peter Stuyvesant; whose name 
spread as much terror in the neighbourhood as did whilom 
that of the unconquerable Scanderbeg among his scurvy ene- 
mies, the Turks. 



CHAPTEE II. 



SHOWING HOW PROFOUND SECRETS ARE OFTEN BROUGHT TO 
LIGHT; WITH THE PROCEEDINGS OF PETER THE HEADSTRONG, 
WHEN HE HEARD OF THE MISFORTUNES OF GENERAL VAN POF- 
FENBURGH. 

Whoever first described common fame, or rumour, as be- 
longing to the sager sex, was a very owl for shrewdness. She 



A mSTOEY OF NEW- YORK. i^l5 

has, in truth, certain feminine qualities to an astonishing de- 
gree ; particularly that benevolent anxiety to take care of the 
affairs of others, which keeps her continually hunting after 
secrets, and gadding about proclaiming them. Whatever is 
done openly and in the face of the world, she takes but tran- 
sient notice of ; but whenever a transaction is done in a corner, 
and attempted to be shrouded in mystery, then her goddess- 
ship is at her wit's end to find it out, and takes a most mis- 
chievous and lady-like pleasure in publishing it to the world. » 

It is this truly feminine propensity that induces her con- 
tinually to be prying into cabinets of princes, listening at the 
key-holes of senate chambers, and peering through chinks and 
crannies, when our worthy Congress are sitting with closed 
doors, deliberating between a dozen excellent modes of ruining 
the nation. It is this which makes her so obnoxious to all 
wary statesmen and intriguing commanders— such a stum- 
bling-block to private negotiations and secret expeditions; 
which she often betrays, by means and instruments which 
never would have been thought of by any but a female head. 

Thus it was in the case of the affair of Fort Casimir. No 
doubt the cunning Risingh imagined, that by securing the 
garrison he should for a long time prevent the history of its 
fate from reacliing the ears of the gallant Stuy vesant ; but his 
exploit was blown to the world when he least expected it, and 
by one of the last beings he would ever have suspected of en- 
Hsting as trumpeter to the wide-mouthed deity. 

This was one Dirk Schuiler, (or Skulker,) a Idnd of hanger- 
on to the garrison ; who seemed to belong to nobody, and in a 
manner to be self-outlawed. He was one of those vagabond 
cosmopohtes, who shark about the world as if they had no 
right or business in it, and who infest the skirts of society like 
poachers and interlopers. Every garrison and country village 
has one or more scape-goats of this kind, whose life is a kind 
of enigma, whose existence is without motive, who comes from 
the Lord knows where, who lives the Lord knows how, and 
seems to be made for no other earthly purpose but to keep up 
the ancient and honourable order of idleness. This vagrant 
philosopher was supposed to have some Indian blood in his 
veins, which was manifested by a certain Indian complexion 
and cast of countenance ; but more especially by his propensi- 
ties and habits. He was a taU, lank fellow, swift of foot and 
long-winded. He was generally equipped in a half India* 
dress, with belt, leggings, and moccasons. His hair hung m 



216 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

straight gallows locks about his ears, and added not a little to 
his sharking demeanour. It is an old remark, that persons of 
Indian mixture are half civilized, half savage, and half devil, 
a third hah being expressly provided for their particular con- 
venience. It is for similar reasons, and probably with equal 
truth, that the back-wood-men of Kentucky are styled half 
man, half horse, and half alligator, by the settlers on the Mis- 
sissippi, and held accordingly in great respect and abhorrence. 

The above character may have presented itself to the garri- 
son as applicable to Dirk Schuiler, whom they familiarly 
dubbed Gallows Dirk. Certain it is, he acknoivledged allegi- 
ance to no one — was an utter enemy to work, holding it in no 
manner of estimation— but lounged about the fort, depending 
upon chance for a subsistence, getting drunk whenever he 
could get liquor, and stealing whatever he could lay his hands 
on. Every day or two he was sure to get a sound rib-roasting 
for some of his misdemeanours, which, however, as it broke 
no bones, he made very light of, and scrupled not to repeat the 
offence, whenever another opportunity presenteTl. Sometimes, 
in consequence of some flagrant villainy, he would abscond 
from the garrison, and be absent for a month at a time ; skulk- 
ing about the woods and swamps, with a long fowling-piece on 
Jiis shoulder, laying in ambush for game — or squatting himself 
down on the edge of a pond catching fish for hours together, 
and bearing no little resemblance to that notable bird ycleped 
the mudpoke. When he thought his crimes had been forgot- 
ten or forgiven, he would sneak back to the fort with a bundle 
of skins, or a bunch of poultry, which perchance he had stolen, 
and would exchange them for liquor, with which, having well 
soaked his carcass, he would lay in the sun and enjoy all the 
luxurious indolence of that swinish philosopher, Diogenes. He 
was the terror of all the farm-yards in the country, into which 
he made fearful inroads; and sometimes he would make his 
sudden appearance at the garrison at day-break, with the 
whole neighbourhood at his heels, like a scoundrel thief of a 
fox, detected in his maraudings and hunted to his hole. Such 
was this Dirk Schuiler; and from the total indifference he 
showed to the world or its concerns, and from Ms truly Indian 
stoicism and taciturnity, no one would ever have dreamt that 
he would have been the publisher of the treachery of Eisingh. 

When the carousal was going on, which proved so fatal to the 
brave Van Poffenburgh and his watchful garrison. Dirk skulked 
about from room to room, being a kind of privileged vagrant, 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TOUK. 211 

or useless hound, whom nohody noticed. But though a fellow 
of few words, yet, like your taciturn people, his eyes and ears 
were always open, and in the course of his prowHngs he over 
heard the whole plot of the Swedes. Dirk immediately settled 
in his own mind how he should turn the matter to his own ad- 
vantage. He played the perfect jack-of-both-sides — that is to 
say, he made a prize of everything that came in his reach, 
robbed both parties, stuck the copper-bound cocked-hat of the 
puissant Van Poffenburgh on his head, whipped a huge pair of 
Eisingh's jack-boots under his arms, and took to his heels, just 
before the catastrophe and confusion at the garrison. 

Finding himself completely dislodged from his haunt in this 
quarter, he directed his flight towards his native place, New 
Amsterdam, from whence he had formerly been obliged to ab- 
scond precipitately, in consequence of misfortune in business— 
that is to say, having been detected in the act of sheep-stealing. 
After wandering many days in the woods, toiling through 
swamps, fording brooks, swimming various rivers, and en- 
countering a world of hardships, that would have killed any 
other being but an Indian, a back-wood-man, or the devil, he 
at length arrived, half famished, and lank as a starved weasel, 
at Communipaw, where he stole a canoe, and paddled over to 
New- Amsterdam. Immediately on landing, he repaired to 
Governor Stuyvesant, and in more words than he had ever 
spoken before in the whole courae of his Hfe, gave an account 
of the disastrous affair. 

On receiving these direful tidings, the vahant Peter started ' 
from his seat -dashed the pipe he was smoking against the 
back of the chimney — thrust a prodigious quid of tobacco into 
his left cheek — pulled up his galligaskins, and strode up and 
down the room, humming, as was customary with him when 
in a passion, a hideous north-west ditty. But as I have before 
shown, he was not a man to vent his spleen in idle vapouring. 
His first measure after the paroxysm of wrath had subsided, 
was to stump up-stairs to a huge wooden chest, which served 
as his armory, from whence he drew forth that identical suit 
of regimentals described in the preceding chapter. In these 
portentous habiliments he arrayed himself, hke Achilles in 
the armour of Vulcan, maintaining aU the while a most ap- 
palling silence, knitting his brows, and drawing his breath 
through his clenched teeth. Being hastily equipped, he strode 
down into the parlour, jerked down his trusty sword from 
over the fire-place, where it was usually suspended ; but before 



218 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

he girded it on his thigh, he drew it from its scabbard, and as 
his eye coursed along the rusty blade, a grim smile stole over 
his iron visage — it was the first smile that had visited his coun- 
tenance for five long weeks; but every one who beheld it, 
prophesied that there would soon be warm work in the pro- 
vince! 

Thus armed at all points, with grizzly war depictured in eacli 
feature, his very cocked-hat assuming an air of uncommon de> 
fiance, he instantly put himself upon the alert, and despatched 
Antony Van Corlear hither and thither, this way and that 
way, through all the muddy streets and crooked lanes of the 
city, summoning by sound of trumpet his trusty peers to as- 
semble in instant council. This done, by way of expediting 
matters, according to the custom of people in a hurry, he kept 
in continual bustle, shifting from chair to chair, popping his 
head out of every window, and stumping up and down stairs 
with his wooden leg in such brisk and incessant motion, that, 
as we are informed by an authentic historian of the times, the 
continual clatter bore no small resemblance to the music of a 
cooper hooping a flour-barrel. 

A summons so peremptory, and from a man of the gover- 
nor's mettle, was not to be trifled with; the sages forthwith 
repaired to the council chamber, seated themselves with the 
utmost tranquillity, and lighting their long pipes, gazed with 
unruffled composure on his excellency and his regimentals 
being, as all counsellors should be, not easily flustered, oi 
taken by surprise. The governor, looking around for a mo- 
ment with a lofty and soldier-like air, and resting one hand od 
the pummel of his sword, and flinging the other forth in a free 
and spirited manner, addressed them in a short, but soul- 
stirring harangue. 

I am extremely sorrjr that I have not the advantages of Livy 
Thucydides, Plutarch, and others of my predecessors, who are 
furnished, as I am told, with the speeches of all their great 
emperors, generals, and orators, taken down in short-hand, by 
the most accurate stenographers of the time ; whereby they 
were enabled wonderfully to enrich their histories, and delight 
their reaaers with sublime strains of eloquence. Not having 
such important auxiliaries, I cannot possibly pronounce what 
was the tenor of Governor Stuyvesant's speech. I am bold, 
however, to say, from the tenor of his character, that he did 
not wrap his rugged subject in silks and ermines, and other 
sickly trickeries of phrase ; but spoke forth, Uke a man of nerve 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 219 

and vigour, who scorned to shrink, in words, from those dan- 
gers which he stood ready to encounter in very deed. This 
much is certain, that he concluded by announcing his deter- 
mination of leading on his troops in person, and routing these 
costardmonger Swedes from their usurped quarters at Fort 
Casimir. To this hardy resolution such of his council as were 
awake gave their usual signal of concurrence, and as to the 
rest who had fallen asleep about the middle of the harangue 
(their "usual custom in the afternoon") — they made not the 
least objection. 

And now was seen in the fair city of New- Amsterdam a 
prodigious bustle and preparation for iron war. Recruiting 
parties marched hither and thither, calling lustily upon all the 
scrubs, the runagates, and tatterdemalions of the Manhattoes 
and its vicinity, who had any ambition of sixpence a day, and 
immortal fame into the bargain, to enlist in the cause of glory. 
For I would have you note that your warlike heroes who 
trudge in the rear of conquerors, are generally of that illus- 
trious class of gentlemen, who are equal candidates for the 
army or the Bridewell— the halberts or the wliipping-post— for 
whom dame Fortune has cast an even die, whether they shall 
make their exit by the sword or the halter — and whose deaths 
shall, at all events, be a lofty example to their countrymen. 

But notwithstanding all this martial rout and invitation, the 
ranks of honour were but scantily supplied ; so averse were 
the peaceful burghers of New-Amsterdam from enlisting in 
foreign broils, or stirring beyond that home which rounded all 
their earthly ideas. Upon beholding this, the great Peter, 
whose noble heart was all on fire with war and sweet re- 
venge, determined to wait no longer for the tardy assistance 
of these oily citizens, but to muster up his merry men of the 
Hudson ; who, brought up among woods and wilds and savage 
beasts, like our yeomen of Kentucky, delighted in nothing 
so much as desperate adventures and perilous expeditions 
through the wilderness. Thus resolving, he ordered his trusty 
squire, Antony Van Corlear, to have his state galley prepared 
and duly victualled ; which being performed, he attended pub- 
lic service at the great church of St. Nicholas, like a true and 
pious governor, and then leaving peremptory orders with his 
council to have the chivalrj^ of the Manhattoes marshalled out 
and appointed against his return, departed upon his recruiting 
voyage, up the waters of the Hudson. 



220 A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 



CHAPTER III. 

CONTAINING PETER STUYVESANT's VOYAGE UP THE HUDSON, AND 
THE WONDERS AND DELIGHTS OP THAT RENOWNED RIVER. 

Now did the soft breezes of the south steal sweetly over the 
beauteous face of nature, tempering the panting heats of sum- 
mer into genial and prolific warmth — when that miracle of 
hardihood and chivalric virtue, the dauntless Peter Stuyve- 
sant, spread his canvas to the wind, and departed from the fair 
island of Manna-hata. The galley in which he embarked was 
sumptuously adorned with pendants and streamers of gorge- 
ous dyes, which fluttered gayly in the wind, or drooped their 
ends in the bosom of the stream. The bow and poop of this 
majestic vessel were gallantly bedight, after the rarest Dutch 
fashion, with figures of little pursy Cupids with periwigs on 
their heads, and bearing in their hands garlands of flowers, the 
like of which are not to be found in any book of botany ; being 
the matchless flowers which flourished in the golden age, and 
exist no longer, unless it be in the imaginations of ingenious 
carvers of wood and discolourers of canvas. 

Thus rarely decorated, in style befitting the state of the 
puissant potentate of the Manhattoes, did the galley of Peter 
Stuy vesant launch forth upon the bosom of the lordly Hudson ; 
which, as it rolled its broad waves to the ocean, seemed to 
pause for a while, and swell with pride, as if conscious of the 
illustrious burthen it sustained. 

But trust me, gentlefolk, far other was the scene presented 
to the contemplation of the crew, from that which may be wit- 
nessed at this degenerate day. Wildness and savage majesty 
reigned on the borders of this mighty river — the hand of culti- 
vation had not as yet laid down the dark forests, and tamed 
the features of the landscape— nor had the frequent sail of 
commerce yet broken in upon the profound and awful soli- 
tude of ages. Here and there might be seen a rude wigwam 
perched among the cUffs of the mountains, with its curling 
column of smoke mounting in the transparent atmosphere — 
but so loftily situated, that the whooping of the savage children, 
gamboUing on the margin of the dizzy heights, fell almost as 
faintly on the ear as do the notes of the lark when lost in the 
azure vault of heaven. Now and then, from the beetling brow 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 221 

of some rocky precipice, the wild deer would look timidly 
down upon the splendid pageant as it passed below ; and then, 
tocsing his branching antlers in the air, would bound away into 
the tliickets of the forest. 

Through such scenes did the stately vessel of Peter Stuyve- 
sant pass. Now did they skirt the bases of the rocky heights of 
Jersey, which spring up like everlasting waUs, reaching from 
the waves unto the heavens ; and were fashioned, if traditions 
may be believed, in times long past, by the mighty spirit 
Manetho, to protect his favourite abodes from the unhallowed 
eyes of mortals. Now did they career it gayly across the vast 
expanse of Tappan Bay, whose wide extended shores present a 
vast variety of delectable scenery — here the bold promontory, 
crowned with embowering trees, advancing into the bay — 
there the long woodland slope, sweeping up from the shore in 
rich luxuriance, and terminating in the upland precipice — 
while at a distance a long waving line of rocky heights threw 
their gigantic shades across the water. Now would they pass 
where some modest httle interval, opening among these stupen- 
dous scenes, yet retreating as it were for protection into the 
embraces of the neighbouring mountains, displayed a rural 
paradise, fraught with sweet and pastoral beauties ; the velvet- 
tufted lawn — ^the bushy copse — the tinkUng rivulet, stealing 
through the fresh and vivid verdure — on whose banks was 
situated some Httle Indian village, or, peradventure, the rude 
cabin of some solitary hunter. 

The different periods of the revolving day seemed each, with 
cunning magic, to diffuse a different charm over the scene. 
Now would the jovial sun break gloriously from the east, blaz- 
ing from the summits of the hills, and sparkling the landscape 
with a thousand dewy gems ; while along the borders of the 
river were seen heavy masses of mist, which, Hke midnight 
caitiffs, disturbed at his approach, made a sluggish retreat, 
rolling in sullen reluctance up the mountains. At such times, 
all was brightness and life and gayety — the atmosphere seemed 
of an indescribable pureness and transparency — the birds 
broke forth in wanton madrigals, and the freshening breezes 
wafted the vessel merrily on her course. But when the sun 
sunk amid a flood of glory in the west, mantling the heavens 
and the earth with a thousand gorgeous dyes — then all was 
calm, and silent, and magnificent. The late swelhng sail hung 
lifelessly against the mast— the seamen with folded arms leaned 
against the shrouds, lost in that involuntary musing which the 



222 ^ HIS TO BY OF NEW- YORK. 

sober grandeur of nature commands in the rudest of her chil- 
dren. The vast bosom of the Hudson was hke an unruffled 
mirror, reflecting the golden splendour of the heavens, excepc- 
ing that now and then a bark canoe would steal across its sur- 
face, filled with painted savages, whose gay feathers glared 
brightly, as perchance a lingering ray of the setting sun 
gleamed upon them from the western mountains. 

But when the hour of twilight spread its magic mists around, 
then did the face of nature assume a thousand fugitive charms, 
which, to the worthy heart that seeks enjoyment in the glori- 
ous works of its Maker, are inexpressibly captivating. The 
mellow dubious hght that prevailed, just served to tinge with 
illusive colours the softened features of the scenery. The de- 
ceived but delighted eye sought vainly to discern, in the broad 
masses of shade, the separating line- between the land and 
water ; or to distinguish the fading objects that seemed sink- 
ing into chaos. Now did the busy xancy supply the feebleness 
of vision, producing with industrious craft a fairy creation of 
her own. Under her plastic wand the barren rocks frowned 
upon the watery waste, in the semblance of lofty towers and 
high embattled castles— trees assumed the direful forms of 
mighty giants, and the inaccessible summits of the mountains 
seemed peopled with a thousand shadowy beings. 

Now broke forth from the shores the notes of an innumera- 
ble variety of insects, which filled the air with a strange but 
not inharmonious concert — while ever and anon was heard the 
melancholy plaint of the whip-poor-will, who, perched on some 
lone tree, wearied the ear of night with his incessant mean- 
ings. The mind, soothed into a hallowed melancholy, listened 
with pensive stillness to catch and distinguish each sound that 
vaguely echoed from the shore — now and then startled per- 
chance by the whoop of some straggling savage, or the dreary 
howl of a wolf, stealing forth upon his nightly prowlings. 

Thus happily did they pursue their course, until they entered 
upon those awful defiles denominated The Highlands, where 
it would seem that the gigantic Titans had erst waged their 
impious war with heaven, piling up cliffs on cliffs, and hurling 
vast masses of rock in wild confusion. But in sooth, very 
different is the history of these cloud-capped mountains.— These 
in ancient days, before the Hudson poured his waters from the 
lakes, formed one vast prison, within whose rocky bosom the 
omnipotent Manetho confined the rebellious spirits who repined 
at his control. Here, bound in adamantine chains, or jammed 



^A HISTORY OF NEW-YOBK. 22'? 

in rifted pines, or crushed by ponderous rocks, they groaned 
for many an age. At length the conquering Hudson, in his 
irresistible career towards the ocean, burst open their prison- 
house, rolling his tide triumphantly through its stupendous 
ruins. 

Still, however, do many of them lurk about their old abodes ; 
and these it is, according to venerable legends, that cause the 
echoes which resound throughout these awful solitudes ; which 
are nothing but their angry clamours, when any noise disturbs 
the profoundness of their repose. For when the elements are 
agitated by tempest, when the winds are up and the thunder 
rolls, then horrible is the yelling and howling of these troubled 
spirits, making the mountains to rebellow with their hideous 
uproar; for at such times, it is said, they think the great 
Manetho is returning once more to plunge them in gloomy 
caverns, and renew their intolerable captivity. 

But all these fair and glorious scenes were lost 'upon the gal 
lant Stuyvesant; nought occupied his mind but thoughts of 
non war, and proud anticipations of hardy deeds of arms. 
Neither did his honest crew trouble their vacant heads with 
any romantic speculations of the kind. The pilot at the helm 
quietly smoked his pipe, thinking of nothing either past, pres- 
ent, or to come — those of his comrades who were not industri- 
ously snoring under the hatches were listening with open 
mouths to Antony Van Corlear ; who, seated on the windlass, 
was relating to them the marvellous history of those myriads 
of fire-flies that sparkled like gems and spangles upon the 
dusky robe of night. These, according to tradition, were 
originally a race of pestilent sempiternous beldames, who peo- 
pled these parts long before the memory of man ; being of that 
abominated race emphatically called brimstones; and who, for 
their innumerable sins against the children of men, and to 
furnish an awful warning to the beauteous sex, were doomed 
to infest the earth in the shape of these threatening and terri- 
ble httle bugs; enduring the internal torments of that fire, 
wliich they formerly carried in their hearts, and breathed forth 
in their words ; but now are sentenced to bear about for ever— - 
in their tails. 

And now am I going to tell a fact, which I doubt much my 
readers will hesitate to believe ; but if they do, they are wel- 
come not to believe a word in this whole history, for nothing 
which it contains is more true. It must be known then that 
the nose of Antony the trumpeter was of a very lusty size, 



224 ^ HI8T0RY OF NEW-TORK. 

strutting boldly from his countenance like a mountain of Gol- 
conda; being sumptuously bedecked with rubies and other 
precious stones — the true regalia of a king of good fellows, 
which jolly Bacchus grants to all who bouse it heartily at the 
flagon. Now thus it happened, that bright and early in the 
morning, the good Antony having washed his burly visage, 
was leaning over the quarter-railing of the galley contemplat- 
ing it in the glassy wave below — just at this moment, the 
illustrious sun, breaking in all his splendour from behind one 
of the high bluffs of the Highlands, did dart one of his most 
potent beams full upon the refulgent nose of the sounder of 
brass — the reflection of which shot straightway down, hissing 
hot, into the water, and killed a mighty sturgeon that was 
sporting beside the vessel ! This huge monster being with in- 
finite labour hoisted on board, furnished a luxurious repast to 
all the crew, being accoimted of excellent flavour, excepting 
about the wound, where it smacked a little of brimstone — and 
this, on my veracity, was the first time that ever sturgeon was 
eaten in these parts by Christian people.* 

When this astonishing miracle came to be made known to 
Peter Stuyvesant, and that he tasted of the unknown fish, he, 
as may well be sujjposed, marvelled exceedingly; and as a 
monument thereof, he gave the name of Antonyms Nose to a 
stout promontory in the neighbourhood — and it has continued 
to be called Antony's Nose ever since that time. 

But hold— Whither am I wandering?— By the mass, if I at- 
tempt to accompany the good Peter Stuyvesant on this voyage, 
I shall never make an end, for never was there a voyage so 
fraught with marvellous incidents, nor a river so abounding 
with transcendent beauties, worthy of being severally recorded. 
Even now I have it on the point of my pen to relate, how bis 
crew were most horribly frightened, on going on shore above 
the Highlands, by a gang of merry, roistering devils, frisking 
and curveting on a huge flat rock, which projected into the 
river— and which is called the DuyveVs Dans-Kamer to this 
very day.— But no! Diedrich Knickerbocker— it becomes thee 
not to idle thus in thy historic wayfaring. 

Eecollect that while dweUing with the fond garrulity of age 
over these fairy scenes, endeared to thee by the recollections of 

* The learned Hans Megapolensis, treating of the country about Albany, in a 
letter which was written some time after the settlement thereof, says: "There is 
in the river great plenty of Sturgeon, which we Christians do not make use of; but 
the Indians eat them greedilie." 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 225 

thy youth, and the charms of a thousand legendary tales 
which beguiled the simple ear of thy childhood ; recollect that 
thou art trifling with those fleeting moments which should be 
devoted to loftier themes. — Is not Time — relentless Time! — 
shaking, with palsied hand, his almost exhausted hour-glass 
before thee? — hasten then to pursue thy weary task, lest the 
last sands be run, ere thou hast finished thy history of the 
Manhattoes. 

Let us then commit the dauntless Peter, his brave galley, 
and his loyal crew, to the protection of the blessed St. Nicholas ; 
who, I have no doubt, will prosper him in his voyage, while 
we await his return at the great city of New- Amsterdam. 



CHAPTER IV. 

DESCRIBING THE POWERFUL ARMY THAT ASSEMBLED AT THE 
CITY OF NEW-AMSTERDAM— TOGETHER WITH THE INTERVIEW 
BETWEEN PETER THE HEADSTRONG AND GENERAL VAN POF- 
FENBURGH, AND PETER'S SENTIMENTS TOUCHING UNFORTUNATE 
GREAT MEN. 

While thus the enterprising Peter was coasting, with flow- 
ing sail, up the shores of the lordly Hudson, and arousing all 
the phlegmatic little Dutch settlements upon its borders, a 
great and puissant concourse of warriors was assembling at the 
city of New- Amsterdam. And here that invaluable fragment 
of antiquity, the Stuyvesant manuscript, is more than com- 
monly iDarticular ; by which means I am enabled to record the 
illustrious host that encamped itseK in the pubhc square in 
front of the fort, at present denominated the Bowling-Green. 

In the centre, then, was pitched the tent of the men of battle 
of the Manhattoes, who being the inmates of the metropohs, 
composed the life-guards of the governor. These were com- 
manded by the valiant Stoffel Brinkerhoff, who whilom had 
acquired such immortal fame at Oyster Bay — they displayed 
as a standard, a beaver raynpant on a field of orange ; being 
the arms of the province, and denoting the persevering indus- 
try and the amphibious origin of the Nederlanders.* 

* This was likewise the great seal of the New -Netherlands, as may still be seen in 
ancient records. 



236 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

On their right hand might be seen the vassals of that re^ 
nowned Mynheer, Michael Paw,* who lorded it over the fair 
regions of ancient Pavonia, and the lands away south, even 
unto the Navesink mountains,! and was moreover patroon of 
Gibbet Island. His standard was borne by his tmsty squire, 
Cornelius Van Vorst; consisting of a huge oyster recumbent 
upon a sea-green field; being the armorial bearings of his 
favourite metropohs, Communipaw. He brought to the camp 
a stout force of warriors, heavily armed, being each clad in ten 
pair of linsey-woolsey breeches, and overshadowed by broad- 
brimmed beavers, with short pipes twisted in their hat-bands. 
These were the men who vegetated in the mud along the 
shores of Pavonia ; being of the race of genuine copperheads, 
and were fabled to have sprung from oysters. 

At a little distance were encamped the tribe of warriors who 
came from the neighbourhood of Hell-Gate. These were com- 
manded by the Suy Dams, and the Van Dams, incontinent 
hard swearers, as their names betoken— they were terrible- 
looking fellows, clad in broad-skirted gaberdines, of that curi- 
ous coloured cloth called thunder and lightning — and bore as 
a standard three Devil's-darning-needles, volant, in a flame- 
coloured field. 

Hard by was the tent of the men of battle from the marshy 
borders of the Waale-BoghtJ and the country thereabouts— 
these were of a sour aspect by reason that they lived on crabs, 
which abound in these parts. They were the first institutors 
of that honourable order of knighthood, called Fly market 
shirks, and, if tradition speak true, did likewise introduce the 
far-famed step in dancing, called "double trouble." They 
were conmianded by the fearless Jacobus Varrt;, Vanger, and 
had moreover a jolly band of Breuckelen§ ferry-men, who per- 
formed a brave concerto on conch-shells. 

But I refrain from pursuing this minute description, which 



* Besides what is related in the Stuyvesant MS., I have found mention made of this 
illustrious Patroon in another manuscript, which says: "De Heer (or the squire) 
Michael Paw, a Dutch subject, about 10th Aug., 1630, by deed purchased Stateu 
Island. N. B. The same Michael Paw had what the Dutch call a colonie at Pavonia, 
on the Jersey shore, opposite New-York, and his overseer, in 1636, was named 
Corns. Van Vorst— a person of the same name in 1769 owned Powles Hook, and a 
large farm at Pavonia, and is a lineal descendant from Van Vorst." 

tSo called from the Navesink tribe of Indians that inhabited these parts— at 
present they are erroneously denominated the Neversink, or Neversunk mountains, 

t Since corrupted into the Wallabout; the bay where the Navy-Yard is situated. 

§ Now spelt Brooklyn. 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 227 

goes on to describe the warriors of Bloemendael, and Wee- 
hawk, and Hoboken, and sundry other places, well known in 
history and song — for now does the sound of martial music 
alarm the people of New- Amsterdam, sounding afar from be- 
yond the walls of the city. But this alarm was in a Httle 
while relieved ; for lo, from the midst of a vast cloud of dust, 
they recognised the brimstone-coloured breeches, and splendid 
silver leg, of Peter Stuyvesant, glaring m the sunbeams; and 
beheld him approaching at the head of a formidable army, 
which he had mustered along the banks of the Hudson. And 
here the excellent, but anonymous writer of the Stuyvesant 
manuscript, breaks out into a brave and glorious description of 
the forces, as they defiled through the principal gate of the 
city, that stood by the head of Wall-street. 

First of all came the Van Bum m els, who inhabit the pleasant 
borders of the Bronx — these were short fat men, wearing ex- 
ceeding large trunk breeches, and are renowned for feats of 
the trencher— they were the first inventors of suppawn or mush- 
and-milk. — Close in their rear marched the Van Vlotens, of 
Kaatskill, most horrible quaff ers of new cider, and arrant brag- 
garts in their liquor. — After them came the Van Pelts, of Groodt 
Esopus, dexterous horsemen, mounted upon goodly switch- 
tailed steeds of the Esopus breed— these were mighty hunters 
of minks and musk-rats, whence came the word Peltry. — Then 
the Van Nests, of Kinderhook, vahant robbers of birds' nests, 
as their name denotes ; to these, if report may be believed, are 
we indebted for the invention of slap-jacks, or buckwheat 
cakes.— Then the Van Higginbottoms, of Wapping's creek; 
these came armed with ferules and birchen rods, being a race 
of schoolmasters, who first discovered the marvellous sympa- 
thy between the seat of honour and the seat of intellect, and 
that the shortest way to get knowledge into the head, was to 
hammer it into the bottom. — Then the Van GroUs, of Antony's 
Nose, who carried their liquor in fair round little pottles, by 
reason they could not bouse it out of their canteens, having 
such rare long noses. — Then the Gardeniers, of Hudson and 
thereabouts, distinguished by many triumphant feats, such as 
robbing watermelon patches, smoking rabbits out of their holes, 
and the like; and by being great lovers of roasted pig's tails, 
these were the ancestors of the renowned congressman of that 
name. — Then the Van Hoesens, of Sing-Sing, great choristers 
and players upon the jews-harp ; these marched two and two, 
singing the great song of St. Nicholas.— Then the Couenhovens, 



228 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK, 

of Sleepy Hollow; these gave bii-th to a joUy race of publi- 
cans, who first discovered the magic artifice of conjuring a 
quart of wine into a pint bottle.— Then the Van Kortlandts, 
who hved on the wild banks of the Croton, and were great 
killers of wild ducks, being much spoken o.f for their skill in 
shooting with the long bow. — Then the Van Bunschotens, of 
Nyack and Kakiat, who were the first that did ever kick with 
the left foot ; they were gallant bush-whackers and hunters of 
raccoons by moonlight. — Then the Van Winkles, of Haerlem, 
potent suckers of eggs, and noted for running of horses, and 
running up of scores at taverns ; they were the first that ever 
winked with both eyes at once.— Lastly came the Knicker- 
bockers, of the great town of Schaghticoke, where the folk 
lay stones upon the houses in windy weather, lest they should 
be blown away. These derive their name, as some say, from 
Knicker, to shake, and Beker, a goblet, indicating thereby that 
they were sturdy toss-pots of yore ; but, in truth, it was de- 
rived from Knicker, to nod, and Boeken, books ; plainly mean- 
ing that they were great nodders or dozers over books — from 
them did descend the writer of this history. 

Such was the legion of sturdy bush-beaters that poured in at 
the grand gate of New- Amsterdam ; the Stuyvesant manuscript 
indeed speaks of many more, whose names I omit to mention, 
seeing that it behoves me to hasten to matters of greater mo- 
ment. Nothing could surpass the joy and martial pride of the 
lion-hearted Peter, as he reviewed this mighty host of warriors, 
and he determined no longer to defer the gratification of hia 
much-wished-ior revenge upon the scoundrel Swedes at Fort 
Casimir. 

But before I hasten to record those unmatchanle events, 
which will be found in the sequel of this faithful history, 
let me pause to notice the fate of Jacobus Van Poffen- 
burgh, the discomfited commander-in-chief of the armies oi 
the New-Netherlands. Such is the inherent uncharitableness 
of human nature, that scarcely did the news become public 
of his deplorable discomfiture at Fort Casimir, than a thou- 
sand scurvy rumours were set afloat in New-Amsterdam, 
wherein it was insinuated, that he had in reality a treacher- 
ous understanding with the Swedish commander ; that he had 
long been in the practice of privately communicating with 
the Swedes; together with divers hints about "secret service 
money :"— to aU which deadly charges I do not give a jot more 
credit than I think they deserve. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 229 

Certain it is, that the general vindicated his character by the 
most vehement oaths and protestations, and put every man 
out of the ranks of honour Avho dared to doubt his integrity. 
More6ver, on returning to New- Anjsterdam, he paraded up and 
down the streets with a crew of hard swearers at his heels — 
sturdy bottle companions, whom he gorged and fattened, and 
who were ready to bolster him through all the courts of justice 
— heroes of his own kidney, fierce- whiskered, broad-shouldered, 
colbrand-looking swaggerers— not one of whom but looked as 
though he could eat up an ox, and pick his teeth with the horns. 
These Hfe-guard men quarrelled all his quarrels, were ready 
to fight aU his battles, and scowled at every man that turned 
up his nose at the general, as though they would devour him 
alive. Their conversation was interspersed with oaths hke 
minute-guns, and every bombastic rodomontado was rounded 
off by a thundering execration, like a patriotic toast honoured 
with a discharge of artillery. 

All these valorous vapourings had a considerable effect in 
convincing certain profound sages, many of whom began to 
think the general a hero of unutterable loftiness and magna- 
nimity of soul, particularly as he was continually protesting on 
the honour of a soldier — a marvellously high-sounding assevera- 
tion. Nay, one of the members of the council went so far as 
to propose they should immortalize him by an imperishable 
statute of plaster of Paris. 

But the vigilant Peter the Headstrong was not thus to be de- 
ceived. — Sending privately for the commander-in-chief of all 
the armies, and having heard all his story, garnished with the 
customary pious oaths, protestations, and ejaculations — "Har- 
kee, comrade," cried he, "though by your own account you 
are the most brave, upright, and honourable man in the whole 
province, yet do you lie under the misfortune of being damna- 
bly traduced, and immeasurably despised. Now, though it is 
certainly hard to punish a man for his misfortunes, and though 
it is very possible you are totally innocent of the crimes laid to 
your charge, yet as Heaven, at present, doubtless for some 
wise purpose, sees fit to withhold aU proofs of your innocence, 
far be it from me to counteract its sovereign will. Besides, I 
cannot consent to venture my armies with a commander whom 
they despise, or to trust the welfare of my people to a champion 
whom they distrust. Eetire, therefore, my friend, from the 
irksome toils and cares of public life, with this comforting re- 
flection—that if guilty, you ,ire but enjoying your just reward 



230 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

— and if innocent, you are not the first great and good man 
who has most wrongfully been slandered and maltreated in 
this wicked worlds-doubtless to be better treated in a better 
world, where there shall be, neither error, calumny, nor perse- 
cution. In the meantime let me never see your face again, for 
I have a horrible antipathy to the countenances of imf ortunate 
great men like yourself." 



CHAPTER V. 

IN WHICH THE AUTHOR DISCOURSES VERY INGENUOUSLY OF* HIM- 
SELF—AFTER WHICH IS TO BE FOUND MUCH INTERESTING HIS- 
TORY ABOUT PETER THE HEADSTRONG AND HIS FOLLOWERS. 

As my readers and myself are about entering on as many 
perils as ever a confederacy of meddlesome knights-errant 
wilfully ran their heads into, it is meet that, like those hardy 
adventurers, we should join hands, bury all differences, and 
swear to stand by one another, in weal or woe, to the end 
of the enterprise. My readers must doubtless perceive how 
completely I have altered my tone and deportment, since we 
first set out together. I warrant they then thought me a 
crabbed, cynical, impertinent little son of a Dutchman, for I 
scarcely ever gave them a civil word, nor so much as touched 
my beaver, when I had occasion to address them. But as we 
jogged along together, in the high-road of my history, I 
gradually began to relax, to grow more courteous, and . oc- 
casionally to enter into familiar discourse, until at length I 
came to conceive a most social, companionable, kind regard 
for them. This is just my way — I am always a little cold 
and reserved at first, particularly to people whom I neither 
know nor care for, and am only to be completely won by 
long intimacy. 

Besides, why should I have been sociable to the crowd of 
how-d'ye-do acquaintances that flocked around me at my first 
appearance? Many were merely attracted by a new face; and 
having stared me full in the title-page, walked off without say- 
ing a word; while others lingered yawningly through the 
preface, and having gratified their short-lived curiosity, soon 
dropped off one by one. But more especially to try their met- 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YOliK. 231 

tie, I had recourse to an expedient, similar to one which we are 
told was used by the peerless flower of chivalry, King Arthur; 
who, before he admitted any knight to his intimacy, first re- 
quired that he should show himself superior to danger or 
hardships, by encountering unheard-of mishaps, slaying some 
dozen giants, vanquishing wicked enchanters, not to say a 
word of dwarfs, hippogriffs, and fiery dragons. On a similar 
principle, I cunningly led my readers, at the first sally, into 
two or three knotty chapters, where they were most wofully 
belaboured and buffeted by a host of pagan philosophers and 
infidel writers. Though naturally a very grave man, yet could 
I scarce refrain from smiling outright at seeing the utter con- 
fusion and dismay of my valiant cavaUers — some dropped down 
dead (asleep) on the field ; others threw down my book in the 
middle of the first chapter, took to their heels, and never ceased 
scampering until they had fairly run it out of sight ; when they 
stopped to take breath, to tell their friends what troubles they 
had undergone, and to warn all ' others from venturing on so 
thankless an expedition. Every page thinned my ranks more 
and more ; and of the vast midtitude that first set out, but a 
comparatively few made shift to survive, in exceedingly bat- 
tered condition, through the five introductory chapters. 

What, then! would you have had me take such sunshine, 
faint-hearted recreants to my bosom at our first acquaintance? 
No — no ; I reserved my friendship for those who deserved it, 
for those who undauntedly bore me company, in spite of diffi- 
culties, dangers, and fatigues. And now, as to those who ad- 
here to me at present, I take them affectionately by the hand. 
— Worthy and thrice-beloved readers! brave and well-tried 
comrades ! who have faithfully followed my footsteps through 
all my wanderings — I salute you from my heart — I pledge my- 
self to stand by you to the last ; and to conduct you (so Heaven 
speed this trusty weapon which I now hold between my fin- 
gers) triumphantly to the end of this our stupendous under- 
taking. 

But, hark ! while we are thus talking, the city of New-Am- 
sterdam is in a bustle. The host of warriors encamped in the 
BowUng-Green are striking their tents ; the brazen trumpet of 
Antony Van Corlear makes the welkin to resound with porten- 
tous clangour — the drums beat — the standards of the Manhat- 
toes, of Hell-Gate, and of Michael Paw, wave proudly in Vhe 
air. And now behold where the mariners are busily employed 
hoisting the sails of yon topsail schooner, and those clump-built 



232 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

sloops, which are to waft the army of the Nederlanders ta 
gather immortal honours on the Delaware ! 

The entire population of the city, man, woman, and cliild, 
turned out to behold the chivalry of New-Amsterdam, as it 
paraded the streets previous to embarkation. Many a handker- 
chief was waved out at the windows ; many a fair nose was 
blown in melodious sorrow, on the mournful occasion. The 
grief of the fair dames and beauteous damsels of Granada could 
not have been more vociferous on the banishment of the gal 
lant tribe of Abencerrages, than was that of the kind hearted 
fair ones of New- Amsterdam on the departure of their intrepid 
warriors. Every love-sick maiden fondly crammed the pock- 
ets of her hero with gingerbread and doughnuts — many a cop- 
per ring was exchanged and crooked sixpence broken, in pledge 
of eternal constancy — and there remain extant to this day some 
love-verses written on that occasion, sufficiently crabbed and 
incomprehensible to confound the whole universe. 

But it was a moving sight to see the buxom lasses, how they 
hung about the doughty Antony Van Corlear — for he was a 
jolly, rosy-faced, lusty bachelor, fond of his joke, and withal a 
desperate rogue among the women. Fain would they have 
kept him to comfort them while the army was away ; for be- 
sides what I have said of him, it is no more than justice to add, 
that he was a kind-hearted soul, noted for his benevolent at- 
tentions in comforting disconsolate wives during the absence 
of their husbands — and this made him to be very much re- 
garded by the honest burghers of the city. But nothing could 
keep the valiant Antony from following the heels of the old 
governor, whom he loved as he did his very soul — so, embrac- 
ing all the young vrouws, and giving every one of them that 
had good teeth and rosy lips, a dozen hearty smacks, he de- 
parted loaded with their kind wishes. 

Nor was the departure of the gallant Peter among the least 
causes of pubUc distress. Though the old governor was by no 
means indulgent to the follies and waywardness of his subjects, 
yet some how or other he had become strangely popular among 
the people. There is something so captivating in personal 
bravery, that, with the common mass of mankind, it takes the 
lead of most other merits. The simple folk of New- Amsterdam 
looked upon Peter Stuyvesant as a prodigy of valour. His 
wooden leg, that trophy of his martial encounter, was regarded 
with reverence and admiration. Every old burgher had a 
budget of miraculous stories to tell about the exploits of Hard' 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 233 

kopping Piet, wherewith he regaled his children of a long win- 
ter night ; and on which he dwelt with as much delight and 
exaggeration, as do our honest country yeomen on the hardy 
adventures of old General Putnam (or as he is famiharly 
termed, Old Put.) during our glorious revolution. Not an in- 
dividual but verily believed the old governor was a match for 
Belzebub himself ; and there was even a story told, with great 
mystery, and under the rose, of his having shot the devil with 
a silver bullet, one dark, stormy night, as he was sailing in a 
canoe tlirough Hell-Gate. — But tliis I do not record as being an 
absolute fact — perish the man who would let fall a drop to dis- 
colour the pure stream of history ! 

Certain it is, not an old woman in New- Amsterdam but con- 
sidered Peter Stuyvesant as a tower of strength, and rested 
satisfied that the public welfare was secure so long as he was 
in the city. It is not surprising, then, that they looked upon 
his departure as a sore aflBliction. With heavy hearts they 
dragged at the heels of his troop, as they marched down to the 
river side to embark. The governor, from the stern of his 
schooner, gave a short, but truly patriarchal address to his 
citizens ; wherein he recommended them to comport like loyal 
and peaceable subjects — to go to church regularly on Sundays, 
and to mind their business all the week besides. — That the 
women should be dutiful and affectionate to their husbands — 
looking after nobody's concerns but their own : eschewing all 
gossipings and morning gaddings— and carrying short tongues 
and long petticoats. — That the men should abstain from inter- 
meddhng in public concerns, intrusting the cares of govern- 
ment to the officers appointed to support them — staying at 
home like good citizens, making money for themselves, and 
getting children for the benefit of their country. That the 
burgomasters should look well to the pubUc interest — not op- 
pressing the poor, nor indulging the rich — not tasking their 
sagacity to devise new laws; but faithfully enforcing those 
which were already made — rather bending their attention to 
prevent evil than to punish it; ever recollecting that civil 
magistrates should consider themselves more as guardians of 
public morals, than rat-catchers employed to entrap public 
dehnquents. Finally, he exhorted them, one and all, high and 
low, rich and poor, to conduct themselves as well as they 
could; assuring them that if they faithfully and conscien- 
tiously compHed with this golden rule, there was no danger 
but that they would all conduct themselves well enough. — This 



234 -1 ill^'IOBT OF NEW- YORK. 

done, he gave them a paternal benediction ; the sturdy Antony 
sounded a most loving farewell with his trumpet, the joUy 
crews put up a shout of triumph, and the invincible armada 
swept off proudly down the bay. 

The good people of New-Amsterdam crowded down to the 
Battery — that blest resort, from whence so many a tender 
prayer has been wafted, so many a fair hand waved, so many 
a tearful look been cast by love-sick damsels, after the lessen- 
ing bark, bearing her adventurous swain to distant climes. 
Here the populace watched with straining .eyes the gallant 
squadron, as it slowly floated down the bay, and when the in- 
tervening land at the Narrows shut it from their sight, 
gradually dispersed with silent tongues and downcast coun- 
tenances. 

A heavy gloom hung over the late bustling city. — The honest 
burghers smoked their pipes in profound thoughtfulness, cast- 
ing many a wistful look to the weathercock, on the church of 
Saint Nicholas ; and all the old women, having no longer the 
presence of Peter Stuyvesant to hearten them, gathered their 
children home, and barricadoed the doors and windows every 
evening at sun-down. 

In the meanwhile, the armada of the sturdy Peter proceeded 
prosperously on its voyage, and after encountering about as 
many storms, and watei^pouts, and whales, and other liorrors 
and phenomena, as generally befall adventurous landsmen, in 
perilous voyages of the kind; and after undergoing a severe 
scouring from that deplorable and unpitied malady called sea- 
sickness, the whole squadron arrived safely in the Delaware. 

Without so much as dropping anchor and giving his wearied 
ships time to breathe after labouring so long in the ocean, the 
intrepid Peter pursued his course up the Delaware, and made 
a sudden appearance before Fort Casimir.— Having summoned 
the astonished garrison by a terrific blast from the trumpet of 
the long-winded Van Corlear, he demanded in a tone of thun- 
der an instant surrender of the fort. To this demand, Suen 
Scutz, the wind-dried commandant, replied in a shi'ill, whiflfling 
voice, which, by reason of his extreme spareness, sounded like 
the wind whistling through a broken bellows — ''that he had 
no very strong reasons for refusing, except that the demand 
was particularly disagreeable, as he had been ordered to main- 
tain his post to the last extremity. " He requested time, there- 
fore, to consult with Governor Risingh, and proposed a truce 
for that purpose. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 235 

The choleric Peter, indignant at having his rightful fort so 
treacherously taken from him, and thus pertinaciously with- 
held, refused the proposed armistice, and swore by the pipe 
of St. Nicholas, which like the sacred fire was never extin- 
guished, that unless the fort were surrendered in ten minutes, 
he would incontinently stoma the works, make all the garrison 
run the gauntlet, and split their scoundrel of a commander 
like a pickled shad. To give this menace the greater effect, he 
drew forth his trusty sword, and shook it at them with such a 
fierce and vigorous motion, that doubtless if it had not been 
exceeding rusty, it would have lightened terror into the eyes 
and hearts of the enemy. He then ordered his men to bring 
a broadside to bear upon the fort, consisting of two swivels, 
three muskets, a long duck fowHng-piece, and two brace of 
horse-pistols. 

In the meantime the sturdy Van Corlear marshalled all 
his forces, and commenced his warlike operations. Distending 
his cheeks like a very Boreas, he kept up a most horrific 
twanging of his trumpet — the lusty choristers of Sing-sing 
broke forth into a hideous song of battle— the warriors of 
Breuckelen and the Wallabout blew a potent and astounding 
blast on their conch-shells, altogether forming as outrageous a 
concerto as though five thousand French orchestras were dis- 
playing their skill in a modern overture. 

Whether the formidable front of war thus suddenly pre- 
sented, smote the garrison with sore dismay — or whether the 
concluding terms of the summons, which mentioned that he 
should surrender "at discretion" were mistaken by Suen 
Scutz, who, though a Swede, was a very considerate, easy- 
tompered man — as a compliment to his discretion, I will not 
take upon me to say ; certain it is, he found it impossible to 
resist so courteous a demand. Accordingly, in the very nick 
of time, just as the cabin-boy had gone after a coal of fire, to 
discharge the swivel, a chamade was beat on the rampart, by 
the only drum in the garrison, to the no small satisfaction of 
both parties; who, notwithstanding their great stomach for 
fighting, had full as good an inclination to eat a quiet dinner, 
as to exchange black eyes and bloody noses. 

Thus did this impregnable fortress once more return to the 
domination of their High Mightinesses ; Scutz and his garrison 
of twenty men were allowed to march out with the honours of 
war, and the victorious Peter, who was as generous as brave, 
permitted them to keep possession of aU their arms and am- 



236 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 

munition— the same on inspection being found totally unfit f oi 
service, having long rusted in the magazine of the fortress, 
even before it was wrested by the Swedes from the magnani- 
mous, but windy Van Poffenburgh. But I .must not omit to 
mention, that the governor was so well pleased with the ser- 
vices of his faithful Squire Van Corlear, in the reduction of 
this great fortress, that he made him on the spot lord of a 
goodly domain in the vicinity of New-Amsterdam — which 
goes by the name of Corlear's Hook unto this very day. 

The unexampled liberahty of the valiant Stuyvesant to- 
wards the Swedes occasioned great surprise in the city of 
New- Amsterdam — nay, certain of these factious individuals, 
who had been enlightened by the poHtical meetings that pre- 
vailed during the days of William the Testy, but who had 
not dared to indulge their meddlesome habits under the eye of 
their present ruler, now emboldened by his absence, dared 
even to give vent to their censures in the street. Murmurs 
were heard in the very council chamber of New- Amsterdam ; 
and there is no knowing whether they would not have broken 
out into downright speeches and invectives, had not Peter 
Stuyvesant privately sent home his walking-staff, to be laid as 
a mace on the table of the council chamber, in the midst of his 
counsellors ; who, like wise men, took the hint, and for ever 
after held their peace. 



CHAPTEE VI. 

SHOWING THE GREAT ADVANTAGE THAT THE AUTHOR HAS OVER 
HIS READER IN TIME OF BATTLE — TOGETHER WITH DIVERS POR- 
TENTOUS MOVEMENTS, WHICH BETOKEN THAT SOMETHING TER- 
RIBLE IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. 

Like as a mighty alderman, when at a corporation feast the 
fii-st spoonful of turtle soup salutes his palate, feels his impa- 
tient appetite but tenfold quickened, and redoubles his vigor- 
ous attacks upon the tureen, whUe his voracious eyes, project- 
ing from his head, roll greedily round, devouring every thing 
at table — so did the mettlesome Peter Stuyvesant feel that in- 
tolerable hunger for martial glory, which raged within his 
very bowels, inflamed by the capture of Fort Casimir, and 
nothing could allay it but the conquest of all New-Swedeiir 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 237 

No sooner, therefore, had he secured his conquest, than he 
stumped resolutely on, flushed with success, to gather fresh 
laurels at Fort Christina.* 

This was the grand Swedish post, established on a small 
river (or as it is improperly termed, creek) of the same name ; 
and here that crafty Governor Jan Risingh lay grimly drawn 
up, like a gray -bearded spider in the citadel of his web. 

But before we hurry into the direful scenes that must attend 
the meeting of two such potent chieftains, it is advisable that 
we pause for a moment, and hold a kind of warlike council. 
Battles should not be rushed into precipitately by the historian 
and his readers, any more than by the general and his soldiers. 
The great commanders of antiquity never engaged the enemy, 
without previously preparing the minds of their followers by 
animating harangues ; spiriting them up to heroic feelings, as- 
suring them of the protection of the gods, and inspiring them 
with a confidence in the prowess of their leaders. So the his- 
torian should awaken the attention and eiihst the passions of 
his readers, and having set them all on fire with the impor- 
tance of his subject, he should put himself at their head, flour- 
ish his pen, and lead them on to the thickest of the fight. 

An illustrious example of this rule may be seen in that mir- 
ror of historians, the immortal Thucydides. Having arrived 
at the breaking out of the Peloponnesian war, one of his com- 
mentators observes, that "he sounds the charge in all the dis- 
position and spirit of Homer. He catalogues the allies on both 
sides. He awakens our expectations, and fast engages our at- 
tention. All mankind are concerned in the important point 
now going to be decided. Endeavours are made to disclose fu- 
turity. Heaven itself is interested in the dispute. The earth 
totters, and nature seems to labour with the great event. This 
is his solemn subhme manner of setting out. Thus he magni- 
fies a war between two, as Eapin styles then^j petty states ; 
and thus artfully he supports a httle subject, by treating it in 
a great and noble method." 

In like manner, having conducted my readers into the very 
teeth of peril — having followed the adventurous Peter and his 
band into foreign regions— surrounded by foes, and stunned by 
the horrid din of arms — at this important moment, while dark- 
ness and doubt hang o'er each coming chapter, I hold it meet 

* This is at present a flourishing town, called Christiana, or Christeen, about 
thirty-seven miles from Philadelphia, on the post-road to Baltimore. 



238 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORR. 

to harangue them, and prepare them for the events that are to 
follow. 

And here I would premise one great advantage which, as the 
historian, I possess over my reader ; and this it is, that though 
I cannot save the life of my favourite hero, nor absolutely 
contradict the event of a battle, (both which liberties, though 
often taken by the French writers of the present reign, I hold 
to be utterly unworthy of a scrupulous historian,) yet I can 
now and then make him to bestow on his enemy a sturdy 
back-stroke suflScient to fell a giant ; though, in honest truth, 
he may never have done any thing of the kind — or I can drive 
his antagonist clear round and round the field, as did Homer 
make that fine fellow Hector scamper like a poltroon round 
the walls of Troy ; for which, if ever they have encountered 
one another in the Elysian fields, I'll warrant the prince of 
poets has had to make the most humble apology. 

I am aware that many conscientious readers will be ready to 
cry out ' ' foul play !" whenever I render a little assistance to 
my hero— but I consider it one of those privileges exercised by 
historians of all ages, and one which has never been disputed. 
In fact, a historian is, as it were, bound in honour to stand by 
his hero— the fame of the latter is intrusted to his hands, and 
it is his duty to do the best by it he can. Never was there a 
general, an admiral, or any other commander, who, in giving 
an account of any battle he had fought, did not sorely bela- 
bour the enemy ; and I have no doubt that, had my heroes 
written the history of their own achievements, they would 
have dealt much harder blows than any that I shall recount. 
Standing forth, therefore, as the guardian of their fame, it be- 
hoves me to do them the same justice they would have done 
themselves; and if I happen to be a little hard upon the 
Swedes, I give free leave to any of their descendants, who 
may write a history of the State of Delaware, to take fair 
I'etaliation, and belabour Peter Stuyvesant as hard as they 
please. 

Therefore stand by for broken heads and bloody noses ! — my 
pen hath long itched for a battle — siege after siege have I car- 
ried on without blows or bloodshed ; but now I have at length 
got a chance, and I vow to Heaven and St. Nicholas, that, let 
the chronicles of the time say what they please, neither Sal- 
lust, Livy, Tacitus, Polybius, nor any other historian, did ever 
record a fiercer fight than that in which my valiant chieftaina 
are now about to engage. 



A HISTORY OF NFAV-YORK. 239 

And you, oh most excellent readers, whom, for your faith- 
ful adherence, I could cherish in the warmest corner of my 
heart— be not uneasy — trust the fate of our favourite Stuyve- 
sant to me — for by the rood, come what may, I'll stick by Hard- 
kopping Piet to the last; I'll make him drive about these losels 
vile, as did the renowned Launcelot of the lake, a herd of re- 
creant Cornish knights — and if he does fall, let me never draw 
my pen to fight another battle, in behalf of a brave man, if I 
don't make these lubberly Swedes pay for it. 

No sooner had Peter Stuyvesant arrived before Fort Chris- 
tina than he proceeded without delay to intrench himself, and 
immediately on running his first parallel, despatched Antony 
Van Corlear to summon the fortress to surrender. Van Cor- 
lear was received with all due formality, hoodwinked at the 
portal, and conducted through a pestiferous smell of salt fish 
and onions, to the citadel, a substantial hut, built of pine logs. 
His eyes were here uncovered, and he found himself in the 
august presence of Governor Risingh. This chieftain, as I 
have before noted, was a very giantly man ; and was clad in a 
coarse blue coat, strapped round the waist with a leathern 
belt, which caused the enormous skirts and pockets to set oflP 
with a very warlike sweep. His ponderous legs were cased 
in a pair of foxy -coloured jack-boots, and he was straddling in 
the attitude of the Colossus of Rhodes, before a bit of broken 
looking-glass, shaving himself with a villainously dull razor. 
This afflicting operation caused him to make a series of hor- 
rible grimaces, that heightened exceedingly the grizzly terrors 
of his visage. On Antony Van Corlear's being announced, the 
grim commander paused for a moment, in the midst of one of 
his mpst hard-favoured contortions, and after eyeing him as- 
kance over his shoulder, with a kind of snarling grin on his 
countenance, resumed his labours at the glass. 

This iron harvest being reaped, he turned once more to the 
trumpeter, and demanded the purport of his errand. Antony 
Van Corlear dehvered in a few words, being a kind of short- 
hand speaker, a long message from his excellency, recoimting 
the whole history of the province, with a recapitulation of 
grievances, and enumeration of claims, and concluding with a 
peremptory demand of instant surrender; which done, he 
turned aside, took his nose between his thumb and finger, and 
blew a tremendous blast, not unlike the flourish of a trumpet 
of defiance— wliich it had doubtless learned from a long and 
intimate neighbourhood vni\\ that melodious instrument. 



240 A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK, 

Governor Eisingh. heard him through, trumpet and all, but 
with infinite impatience; leaning at times, as was his usual 
custom, on the pommel of his sword, and at times twirhng a 
huge steel watch-chain, or snapping his fingers. Van Corlear 
having finished, he bluntly replied, that Peter Stuyvesant and 

his smimions might go to the d 1, whither he hoped to send 

liim. and his crew of ragamuffins before supper-time. Then 
unsheathing his brass-hilted sword, and throwing away the 
3cabbard— " Fore gad," quod he, " but I will not sheathe thee 
again, until I make a scabbard of the smoke-dried, leathern 
hide of this runagate Dutchman." Then having flung a fierce 
defiance in the teeth of his adversary, by the hps of his mes- 
senger, the latter was reconducted to the portal, with all the 
ceremonious civiHty due to the trumpeter, 'squire, and am- 
bassador of so great a commander, and being again unblinded, 
was courteously dismissed with a tweak of the nose, to assist 
him in recollecting his message. 

No sooner did the gallant Peter receive this insolent reply, 
than he let fly a tremendous volley of red-hot execrations, that 
would infallibly have battered down the fortifications, and 
blown up the powder-magazine about the ears of the fiery 
Swede, had not the ramparts been remarkably strong, and the 
magazine bomb-proof. Perceiving that the works withstood 
this terrific blast, and that it was utterly impossible (as it 
really was in those unphilosophic days) to carry on a war with 
words, he ordered his merry men all to prepare for an im- 
mediate assault. But here a strange murmur broke out 
among his troops, beginning with the tribe of the Van Bum- 
mels, those valiant trencher-men of the Bronx, and spreading 
from man to man, accompanied with certain mutinous looks 
and discontented murmurs. For once in his life, and only for 
once, did the great Peter turn pale, for he verily thought his 
wariiors were going to falter in this hour of perilous trial, and 
thus tarnish for ever the fame of the province of New-Neder= 
lands. 

But soon did he discover, to his great joy, that in this suspi- 
cion he deeply wronged this most undaunted army ; for the 
cans of this agitation and uneasiness simply was, that the 
hour of dinner was at hand, and it would have almost broken 
the hearts of these regular Dutch warriors, to have broken in 
upon the invariable routine of their habits. Besides, it was 
an established rule among our vahant ancestors, always to 
fight upon a full stomach, and to this may be doubtless at 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 241 

tributed the circumstance that they came to be so renowned 
in arms. 

And now are the hearty men of the Manhattoes, and their 
no less hearty comrades, all lustily engaged under the trees, 
buffeting stoutly with the contents of their wallets, and taking 
such affectionate embraces of their canteens and pottles, as 
though they verily believed they were to be the last. And as 
I foresee we shall have hot work in a page or two, I advise my 
readers to do the same, for which purpose I will bring this 
chapter to a close ; giving them my word of honour that no 
advantage shall be taken of this armistice to surprise, or in 
any wise molest, the honest Nederlanders while at their vigor- 
ous repast. 



CHAPTER VII. 



CONTAINING THE MOST HORRIBLE BATTLE EVER RECORDED IN 
POETRY OR PROSE— WITH THE ADMIRABLE EXPLOITS OF PETER 
THE HEADSTRONG. 

" Now had the Dutchmen snatched a huge repast," and find- 
ing themselves wonderfully encouraged and animated thereby, 
prepared to take the field. Expectation, says the writer of 
the Stuyvesant manuscript— Expectation now stood on stilts. 
The world forgot to turn round, or rather stood still, that it 
might witness the affray; like a fat, round-bellied alderman, 
watching the combat of two chivalric flies upon his jerkin. 
!phe eyes of all mankind, as usual in such cases, were turned 
upon Fort Christina. The sun, like a little man in a crowd 
at a puppet-show, scampered about the heavens, popping his 
head here and there, and endeavouring to get a peep between 
the unmannerly clouds that obtruded themselves in his way. 
The historians filled their ink-horns— the poets went without 
their dinners, either that they might buy paper and goose- 
quills, or because they could not get any thing to eat— anti- 
quity scowled sulkily out of its grave, to see itself outdone— 
while even posterity stood mute, gazing in gaping ecstasy of 
retrospection on the eventful field. 

The immortal deities, who whilom had seen service at the 
** affair" of Troy— now mounted their feather-bed clouds, and 
Bailed over the plain or mingled among the combatants in dif- 



242 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 

ferent disguises, all itching to have a finger in the pie. Jupi- 
ter sent off his thunderbolt to a noted coppersmith, to have it 
furbished up for the direful occasion. Venus swore by her 
chastity she'd patronize the Swedes, and in semblance of a 
blear-eyed trull, paraded the battlements of Fort Christina, 
accompanied by Diana as a sergeant's widow, of cracked repu- 
tation. — The noted bully. Mars, stuck two horse-pistols into 
his belt, shouldered a rusty firelock, and gallantly swaggered 
at their elbow as a drunken corporal — wliile Apollo trudged in 
tiieir rear as a bandy-legged fifer, playing most villainously 
out of tune. 

On the other side, the ox-eyed Juno, who had gained a pair 
of black eyes overnight, in one of her curtain lectures with old 
Jupiter, displayed her haughty beauties on a baggage-wagon — 
Minerva, as a brawny gin sutler, tucked up her skirts, bran- 
dished her fists, and swore most heroically in exceeding bad 
Dutch, (having but lately studied the language,) by way of 
keeping up the spirits of the soldiers ; while Vulcan halted as 
a club-footed blacksmith, lately promoted to be a captain of 
mihtia. All was silent horror, or busthng preparation ; war 
reared his horrid front, gnashed loud liis iron fangs, and shook 
his direful crest of bristling bayonets. 

And now the mighty chieftains marshalled out their hosts. 
Here stood stout Eisingh, firm as a thousand rocks — incrusted 
with stockades and entrenched to the chin in mud batteries. 
His valiant soldiery lined the breastwork in grim array, each 
having his mustachios fiercely greased, and his hair poma- 
tumed back and queued so stiffly that he grinned above the 
ramparts like a grizzly death's head. 

There came on the intrepid Peter— his brows knit, his teeth 
set, his fists clenched, almost breathing forth volumes of 
smoke, so fierce was the fire that raged within his bosom. 
His faithful 'squire. Van Corlear, trudged vahantly at his 
heels, with his trumpet gorgeously bedecked with red and 
yellow ribands, the remembrances of his fair mistresses- at the 
Manhattoes. Then came waddling on the sturdy chivalry of 
the Hudson. There were the Van Wycks, and the Van 
Dycks, and the Ten Eycks— the Van Nesses, the Van Tassels, 
the Van Grolls, the Van Hoesens, the Van Giesons, and the 
Van Blarcoms— the Van Warts, the Van Winkles, the Van 
Dams, the Van Pelts, the Van Eippers, and the Van Brunts. 
—There were the Van Homes, the Van Hooks, the Van Bun- 
schoteno; the Van Gelders, the Van Arsdales, and the Van 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 243 

Bummels— the Vander Belts, the Vander Hoofs, the Vander 
Voorts, the Vander Lyns, the Vander Pools, and the Vander 
Spiegels.— There came the Hoffmans, the Hooghlands, the Hop- 
pers, the Cloppers, the Eyckmans, the Dyckraans, the Hoge- 
booms, the Rosebooms, the Oothouts, the Quackenbosses, the 
Roerbacks, the Garrebrantzs, the Bensons, the Brouwers, the 
Waldrons, the Onderdonks, the Varra Vangers, the Scher- 
merhornes, the Stoutenburghs, the Brinkerhoffs, the Bon- 
tecous, the Knickerbockers, the Hockstrassers, the Ten 
Breecheses, and the Tough Breecheses, with a host more of 
worthies, whose names are too crabbed to be written, or if 
they could be written, it would be impossible for man to utter 
—all fortified with a mighty dinner, and to use the words of 
a great Dutch poet, 

" Brimful of wrath and cabbage!" 

For an instant the mighty Peter paused in the midst of his 
career, and mounting on a stump, addressed his troops in 
eloquent Low Dutch, exhorting them to fight like duyvels, and 
assuring them that if they conquered, they should get plenty 
of booty— if they fell, they should be allowed the unparalleled 
satisfaction, wliile dying, of reflecting that it was in the ser- 
vice of their country — and after they were dead, of seeing 
iheir names inscribed in the temple of renown, and handed 
down, in company with all the other great men of the year, 
for the admiration of posterity. — Finally, he swore to them, 
on the word of a governor, (and they knew him too well to 
doubt it for a moment) that if he caught any mother's son of 
them looking pale, or playing craven, he'd curry his hide till 
he made him run out of it hke a snake in spring-time. — Then 
lugging out his trusty sabre, he brandished it three times over 
his head, ordered Van Corlear to sound a tremendous charge, 
and shouting the words, "St. Nicholas and the Manhattoes!" 
courageously dashed forwards. His warlike followers, who 
had employed the interval in lighting their pipes, instantly 
stuck them in their mouths, gave a furious puff, and charged 
gallantly, under cover of the smoke. 

The Swedish garrison, ordered by the cunning Risingh not 
to fire until they could distinguish the whites of their assail- 
ants' eyes, stood in horrid silence on the covert-way, until the 
eager Dutchmen had ascended the glacis. Then did they pour 
into them such a tremendous volley, that the very hills quaked 
ground, and were terrified even unto an incontinence of water, 



214 A niSTOBY OF NEW-YORK. 

insomuch that certain springs burst forth from their sides, 
which continue to run unto the present day. Not a Dutchman 
but would have bitten the dust, beneath that dreadful fire, 
had not the i)rotocting Minerva kindly taken care that the 
Swedes should, one and all, observe their usual custom, of 
shutting their eyes and turning away their heads, at the 
moment of discharge. 

The Swedes followed up their fire by leaping the counter- 
scarp, and falling tooth and nail upon the foe, with furious 
outcries. And now might be seen prodigies of valour, of 
which neither history nor song has ever recorded a parallel. 
Here was beheld the sturdy Stoffel Brinkerhofi, brandishing 
his lusty quarter- staff, like the terrible giant Blander on his 
oak tree, (for he scorned to carry any other weapon,) and 
drumming a horrific tune upon the heads of whole squadrons 
of Swedes. There were the crafty Van Kortlandts, posted at 
a distance, like the Locrian archers of yore, and plying it most 
potently with the long bow, for which they •were so justly 
renowned. At another place were collected on a rising knoll 
the valiant men of Sing-Sing, who assisted marveUously in the 
fight, by chanting forth the great song of St. Nicholas ; but as 
to the Gardeniers of Hudson, they were absent from the 
battle, having been sent out on a marauding party, to lay 
waste the neighbouring water-melon patches. In a different 
part of the field might be seen the Van Grolls of Antony's 
Nose; but they were horribly perplexed in a defile between 
two little hills, by reason of the length of their noses. There 
were the Van Bunschotens of Nyack and Kakiat, so renowned 
for kicking with the left foot, but their skill availed them httle 
at present, being short of wind in consequence of the hearty 
dinner they had eaten, and they would irretrievably have been 
put to rout, had they not been reinforced by a gallant corps of 
Voltigeures, composed of the Hoppers, who advanced to their 
assistance nimbly on one foot. Nor must I omit to mention 
the incomparable achievements of Antony Van Corlear, who, 
for a good quarter of an hour, waged stubborn fight with a 
little, pursy Swedish drummer, whose hide he drummed most 
magnificently ; and had he not come into the battle with no 
other weapon but his trumpet, would infallibly have put him 
to an untimely end. 

But now the combat thickened— on came the mighty Jacobus 
Varra Vanger, and the fighting men of the Wallabout ; after 
them thundered the Van Pelts of Esopus, together with the 



A HISTORY OF liEW-TORK. ' 245 

Van Rippers and the Van Brunts, bearing down all before them 
— then the Suy Dams and the Van Dams, pressing forward 
with many a blustering oath, at the head of the warriors of 
Hell-Gate, clad in their thunder and lightning gaberdines; 
and lastly, the standard-bearers and body-guards of Peter 
Stuyvesant, bearing the great beaver of the Manhattoes. 

And now commenced the horrid din, the desperate struggle, 
the maddening ferocity, the frantic desperation, the confusion 
and self-abandonment of war. Dutchman and Swede com- 
mingled, tugged, panted, and blowed. The heavens were dark- 
ened with a tempest of missives. Bang! went the guns — 
whack! struck the broad-swords— thump ! went the cudgels — 
crash ! went the musket stocks— blows— kicks — cuffs— scratches 
— black eyes and bloody noses, swelling the horrors of the 
scene! Thick-thwack, cut and hack, helter-skelter, higgledy- 
piggledy, hurly-burly, head over heels, rough and tumble ! 

Dunder and blixum ! swore the Dutchmen— sphtter and splut- 
ter! cried the Swedes. — Storm the works! shouted Hardkop- 
pig Peter— lire the mine! roared stout Risingh— Tanta-ra-ra- 
ra! twanged the trumpet of Antony Van Corlear— until all 
voice and sound became unintelhgible— grunts of pain, yells 
of fury, and shouts of triumph comniinghng in one hideous 
clamour. The earth shook as if struck with a paralytic stroke 
— trees shrunk aghast, and withered at the sight— rocks bur- 
rowed in the ground like rabbits, and even Christina creek 
turned from its course, and ran up a mountain in breathless 
terror ! 

Long hung the contest doubtful ; for, though a heavy shower 
of rain, sent by the " cloud-compeUing Jove," in some measure 
cooled their ardour, as doth a bucket of water thrown on a 
group of fighting mastiffs, yet did they but pause for a mo- 
ment, to return with tenfold fury to the charge, belabouring 
each other with black and bloody bruises. Just at this junc- 
ture was seen a vast and dense column of smoke, slowly roll- 
ing towards the scene of battle, which. for a while made even 
che furious combatants to stay their arms in mute astonish- 
ment—but the wind for a moment dispersing the murky cloud, 
from the midst thereof emerged the flaunting banner of the 
immortal ^Michael Paw. This noble chieftain came fearlessly 
on, leading a solid phalanx of oyster-fed Pavonians, who had 
remained behind, partly as a corps de reserve, and partly to 
digest the enormous dinner they had eaten. These sturdy 
yeomen, nothing daunted, did trudge manfully forward, smok* 



246 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

ing their pipes with outrageous vigour, so as to raise the a^vful 
cloud that has been mentioned ; - but marching excecdmgly 
slow, being short of leg, and of great rotundity in the belt. 

And now the protecting deities of the army of New- Amster- 
dam, having unthinkingly left the field and stept into a neigh- 
bouring tavern to refresh themselves with a pot of beer, a 
direful catastrophe had well-nigh chanced to befall the Neder- 
landers. Scarcely had the myrmidons of the puissant Paw 
attained the front of battle, before the Swedes, instructed by 
the cunning Risingh, levelled a shower of blows fuU at their 
tobacco-pipes. Astounded at this unexpected assault, and 
totally discomfited at seeing their pipes broken, the valiant 
Dutchmen fell in vast confusion— already they begin to fly — 
like a frightened drove of unwieldy elephants they throw 
their owji army in an uproar, bearing down a whole legion of 
little Hoppers — the sacred banner, on which is blazoned the 
gigantic oyster of Communipaw, is trampled in the dirt— the 
Swedes pluck up new spirits, and pressing on their rear, apply 
their feet Si parte post e, with a vigour that prodigiously accel- 
erates their motions— nor doth the renowned Paw himself fail 
to receive divers grievous and dishonourable visitations of 
shoe-leather ! 

But what, oh muse? was the rage of the gallant Peter, when 
from afar he saw his army yield? With a voice of thunder 
did he roar after his recreant warriors. The men of the Man- 
hattoes plucked up new courage when they heard their leader 
—or rather they dreaded his fierce displeasure, of which they 
stood in more awe than of all the Swedes in Christendom— but 
the daring Peter, not waiting for their aid, plunged, sword in 
hand, into the thickest of the foe. Then did he display some 
such incredible achievements as have never been known since 
the miraculous days of the giants. Wherever he went, the 
enemy shrunk before him— with fierce impetuosity he pushed 
forward, driving the Swedes, like dogs, into their own ditch— 
but as he fearlessly advanced, the foe thronged in his rear, 
and hung upon Ms flank with fearful peril. One crafty Swede, 
advancing warily on one side, drove his dastard sword full at 
the hero's heart ; but the protecting power that watches over 
the safety of all great and good men, turned aside the hostile 
blade, and directed it to a side pocket, where reposed an enor- 
mous iron tobacco-box, endowed, like the shield of Achilles, 
with supernatural powers— no doubt in consequence of its 
being piously decorated with a portrait of the blessed St. Nich' 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 247 

olas. Thus was the dreadful blow repelled, but not without 
occasioning to the great Peter a fearful loss of wind. 

Like as a furious bear, when gored by curs, tui-ns fiercely- 
round, gnashes his teeth, and springs upon the foe, so did our 
hero turn upon the treacherous Swede. The miserable varlet 
sought in flight for safety— but the active Peter, seizing him 
by an immeasurable queue, that dangled from his head — "Ah, 
whoreson caterpillar!" roared he, "here is what shall make 
dog's meat of thee !" So saying, he whirled his trusty sword, 
and made a blow that would have decapitated him, but that 
the pitying steel struck short, and shaved the queue for ever 
from his crown. At this very moment a cunning arquebusier, 
perched on the summit of a neighbouring mound, levelled his 
deadly instrument, and would have sent the gallant Stuyve- 
sant a wailing ghost to haunt the Stygian shore, had not the 
watchful Minerva, who had just stopped to tie up her garter, 
seen the great peril of her favourite chief, and despatched old 
Boreas with his bellows ; who, in the very nick of time, just as 
the match descended to the pan, gave such a lucky blast, as 
blew all the priming from the touch-hole ! 

Thus waged the horrid fight — ^when the stout Risingh, sur- 
veying the battle from the top of a little ravelin, perceived his 
faithful troops banged, beaten, and kicked by the invincible 
Peter. Language cannot describe the choler with which he 
was seized at the sight — he only stopped for a moment to dis- 
burthen himself of five thousand anathemas ; and then, draw- 
ing his immeasurable falchion, straddled down to the field of 
combat, with some such thundering strides as Jupiter is said 
by Hesiod to have taken when he strode down the spheres, to 
hurl his thunderbolts at the Titans. 

No sooner did these two rival heroes come face to face, than 
they each made a prodigious start, such as is made by your 
most experienced stage champions. Then did they regard 
each other for a moment, with bitter aspect, like two furious 
ram-cats, on the very point of a clapper-clawing. Then did 
they throw themselves in one attitude, then in another, strik- 
ing their swords on the ground, first on the right side, then on 
the left — at last, at it they went with incredible ferocity. 
Words cannot tell the prodigies of strength and valour dis- 
played in this direful encounter — an encounter, compared to 
which the far-famed battles of Ajax with Hector, of Eneas 
with Turnus, Orlando with Rodomont, Guy of Warwick -vith 
Colbrand the Dane, or that renowned Welsh knight, Sir Owen 



248 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK 

of the Mountains with the giant Guylon, were all gentle sports 
and holyday recreations. At length the valiant Peter, watch 
ing his opportunity, aimed a fearful blow, with the full inten- 
tion of cleaving his adversary to the very chine; bat Risingh, 
nunbly raising his sword, warded it off so narrowly, that glanc- 
ing on one side, it shaved away a huge canteen that he always 
carried swung on one side ; thence pursuing its trenchant course, 
it severed off a deep coat-pocket, stored with bread and cheese 
— all which dainties rolling among the armies, occasioned a 
fearful scrambhng between the Swedes and Dutchmen, and 
made the general battle to wax ten times more furious than 
ever. 

Enraged to see his military stores thus wofully laid waste, 
the stout Risingh, collecting all his forces, aimed a mighty 
blow full at the hero's crest. In vain did his fierce little 
cocked hat oppose its course; the biting steel clove through 
the stubborn ram-beaver, and would infallibly have cracked 
his cro\^^l, but that the skull was of such adamantine hard- 
ness, that the brittle weapon shivered into pieces, shedding a 
thousand sparks, like beams of glory, round his grizzly visage. 

Stunned with the blow, the vahant Peter reeled, turned up 
his eyes, and beheld fifty thousand suns, besides moons and 
stars, dancing about the firmament — at length, missing his 
footing, by reason of his wooden leg, down he came, on his 
seat of honour, with a crash that shook the surrounding hills, 
and would infallibly have wrecked his anatomical system, had 
he not been received into a cushion softer than velvet, which 
Providence, or Minerva, or St. Nicholas, or some kindly cow, 
had benevolently prepared for his reception. 

The furious Risingh, in despite of that noble maxim, cher- 
ished by aU true knights, that " fair play is a jewel," hastened 
to take advantage of the hero's fall ; but just as he was stoop- 
ing to give the fatal blow, the ever-vigilant Peter besjiowed 
him a sturdy thwack over the sconce with his wooden leg, 
that set some dozen chimes of bells ringing triple bob-majors 
in his cerebellum. The bewildered Swede staggered with the 
blow, and in the meantime the wary Peter, espying a pocket- 
pistol lying hard by, (wliich had dropped from the wallet of 
his faithful 'squire and trumpeter. Van Corlear, during his 
furious encounter with the drummer,) discharged it full at the 
head of the reeling Risingh. — Let not my reader mistake — it 
was not a murderous weapon loaded with powder and ball, 
but a little sturdy stone pottle, charged to the muzzle with a 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK, 249 

doulDle dram of true Dutch courage, which the knowing Van 
Corlear always carried about liim by way of replenishing his 
valour. The hideous missive sung through the air, and true 
to its course, as was the mighty fragment of a rock discharged 
at Hector by bully Ajax, encountered the huge head of the gi- 
gantic Swede with matchless violence. 

This heaven-directed blow decided the eventful battle. The 
ponderous pericranium of General Jan Risingh sunk upon his 
breast ; his knees tottered under him ; a deathhke torpor seized 
upon his giant frame, and he tumbled to the earth with such 
tremendous violence, that old Pluto started with affright, lest 
he should have broken tln-ough the roof of his infernal palace. 

His fall was the signal of defeat and victory. — The Swedes 
gave way — the Dutch pressed forward ; the former took to 
their heels, the latter hotly pursued — some entered with them, 
pell-mell, through the sally-port— others stormed the bastion, 
and others scrambled over the curtain. Thus, in a httle while, 
the impregnable fortress of Fort Christina, which like another 
Troy had stood a siege of full ten hours, was finally carried by 
assault, without the loss of a single man on either side. Vic- 
tory, in the likeness of a gigantic ox-fly, sat perched upon the 
cocked hat of the gallant Stuyvesant ; and it was universally 
declared, by all the writers whom he hired to write the his- 
tory of his expedition, that on this memorable day he gained 
a sufficient quantity of glory to immortalize a dozen of the 
greatest heroes in Christendom I 



CHAPTER VIII. 



IN WHICH THE AUTHOR AND THE READER, WHILE REPOSING 
AFTER THE BATTLE, FALL INTO A VERY GRAVE DISCOURSE- 
AFTER WHICH IS RECORDED THE CONDUCT OF PETER STUYVE- 
SANT AFTER HIS VICTORY. 

Thanks to St. Nicholas, we have safely finished this tremen- 
dous battle ; let us sit down, my worthy reader, and cool our- 
selves, for I am in a prodigious sweat and agitation. — Truly 
this fighting of battles is hot work ! and if your great com- 
manders did but know what trouble they give their historians, 
they would not have the conscience to achieve so m£»iiy horri 



250 ^ HISTORY OF NEW -YORK. 

ble victories. But methinks I hear ray reader complain, that 
throughout this boasted battle, there is not the least slaughter, 
nor a single individual maimed, if we except the unhappy Swede, 
who was shorn of his queue by the trenchant blade of Peter 
Stuy vesant ; all which, he observes, is a great outrage on proba- 
bility, and highly injurious to the interest of the narration. 

This is certainly an objection of no httle moment ; but it 
arises entirely from the obscurity that envelopes the remote 
peiiods of time, about which I have undertaken to write. 
Thus, though, doubtless, from the importance of the object, 
and the prowess of the parties concerned, there must have, 
been terrible carnage, and prodigies of valour displayed, before 
the walls of Christina, yet, notwithstanding that I have con- 
sulted every history, manuscript, and tradition, touching this 
memorable, though long-forgotten battle, I cannot find mention 
made of a single man killed or wounded in the whole affair. 

This is, without doubt, owing to the extreme modesty of our 
forefathers, who, like their descendants, were never prone to 
vaunt of their achievements ; but it is a virtue that places their 
historian in a most embarrassing predicament; for, having 
promised my readers a hideous and unparalleled battle, and 
having worked them up into a warlike and bloodthirsty state 
of mind, to put them off without any havoc and slaughter, was 
as bitter a disappointment as to summon a multitude of good peo- 
ple to attend an execution, and then cruelly balk by a reprieve. 

Had the inexorable fates only allowed me some half a score 
of dead men, I had been content ; for I would have made them 
such heroes as abounded in the olden time, but whose race 
is now unfortunately extinct — any one of whom, if we may 
believe those authentic writers, the poets, could drive great 
armies like sheep before him, and conquer and desolate whole 
cities by his single arm. 

But seeing that I had not a single life at my disposal, all that 
was left me was to make the most I could of my battle, by 
means of kicks, and cuffs, and bruises, and such like ignoble 
wounds. And here I cannot but compare my dilemma, in 
some sort, to that of the divine Milton, who, having arrayed 
with sublime preparation his immortal hosts against each 
other, is sadly put to it how to manage them, and how he shall 
make the end of his battle answer to the beginning; inasmuch 
as, being mere spirits, he cannot deal a mortal blow, nor even 
give a flesh wound to any of his combatants. For my part, 
the greatest difficulty I found, was, when I had once put my 



A HISTORY OF' NEW- YORK. 251 

warriors in a passion, and let them loose into the midst of the 
enemy, to keep them from doing mischief. Many a time had 
I to restrain the sturdy Peter from cleaving a gigantic Swede 
to the very waistband, or spitting half-a-dozen httle fellows on 
his sword, like so many sparrows ; and when I had set some 
hundreds of missives flying in the air, I did not dare to suffer 
one of them to reach the ground, lest it should have put an 
end to some unlucky Dutchman. 

The reader caunot conceive how mortifying it is to a writer, 
thus in a manner to have his hands tied, and how many 
tempting opportunities I had to wink at, where I might have 
made as fine a death-blow as any recorded in history or song. 

From my own experience, I begin to doubt most potently of 
the authenticity of many of Homer's stories. I verily believe, 
that when he had once lanched one of his favourite heroes 
among a crowd of the enemy, he cut down many an honest 
fellow, without any authority for so doing, excepting that he 
presented a fair mark— and that often a poor devil was sent to 
grim Pluto's domains, merely because he had a name that 
would give a sounding turn to a period. But I disclaim all 
such unprincipled liberties — let me but have truth and the law 
on my side, and no man would fight harder than myself : but 
since the various records I consulted did not warrp,nt it, I had 
too much conscience to kill a single soldier. By St. Nicholas, 
but it would have been a pretty piece of business ! My ene- 
mies, the critics, who I foresee will be ready enough to lay 
any crime they can discover at my door, might have charged 
me with murder outright— and I should have esteemed myself 
lucky to escape with no harsher verdict than manslaughter ! 

Ai;d now, gentle reader, that we are tranquilly sitting down 
here, smoking our pipes, permit me to indulge in a melancholy 
reflection, which at this moment passes across my mind. — 
How vain, how fleeting, how uncertain are all those gaudy 
bubbles after wliich we are panting and toihng in this world 
of fair delusion! The wealth which the miser has amassed 
with so many weary days, so many sleepless nights, a spend- 
thrift heir may squander away in joyless prodigahty. The 
noblest monuments wliich pride has ever reared to perpetuate 
a name, the hand of time will shortly tumble into ruins — and 
even the brightest laurels, gained by feats of arms, may 
wither and be for ever blighted by the chilling neglect of man- 
kind.—" How many illustrious heroes," says the good Boetius, 
*' who were once the pride and glory of the age, hath the 



252 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-TORE. 

silence of historians buried in eternal oblivion !" And this it 
was that induced the Spartans, when they, went to battle, 
solemnly to sacrifice to the muses, supphcating that their 
achievements should be worthily recorded. Had not Homer 
tuned his lofty lyre, observes the elegant Cicero, the valour of 
Achilles had remained unsung. And such, too, after all the 
toils and perils he had braved, after all the gallant actions 
he had achieved, such too had nearly been the fate of the 
chivalric Peter Stuyvesant, but that I fortunately stepped in 
and engraved his name on the indehble tablet of history, just 
as the caitiff Time was silently binishing it away for ever. 

The more I reflect, the more am I astonished at the impor- 
tant character of the historian. He is the sovereign censor, to 
decide upon the renown or infamy of his fellow-men — he is the 
patron of kings and conquerors, on whom it depends whether 
they shall hve in after ages, or be forgotten, as were their 
ancestors before them. The tyrant may oppress while the 
object of his tyranny exists, but the historian possesses supe- 
rior might, for his power extends even beyond the grave. The 
shades of departed and long-forgotten heroes anxiously bend 
down from above, wliile he writes, watching each movement 
of his pen, whether it shaU pass by their names with neglect, 
or inscribe them on the deathless pages of renown. Even the 
drop of ink that hangs trembling on his pen, which he may 
either dash upon the floor or waste in idle scrawlings — that 
very drop^ which to him is not worth the twentieth part of 
a farthing, may be of incalculable value to some departed 
worthy — may elevate half a score, in one moment, to immor- 
tahty, who would have given worlds, had they possessed 
them, to insure the glorious meed. 

Let not my readers imagine, however, that I am iudulging 
in vain-glorious boastings, or am anxious to blazon forth the 
importance of my tribe. On the contrary, I shrink when I 
reflect on the awful responsibility we historians assume — I 
shudder to think what direful commotions and calamities we 
occasion in the world — I swear to thee, honest reader, as I am 
a man, I weep at the very idea! Why, let me ask, are so 
many illustrious men daily tearing themselves away from the 
embraces of their families — shghting the smiles of beauty — 
despising the allurements of fortune, and exposing themselves 
to the miseries of war? — Why are kings desolating empires, 
and depopulating whole countries? In short, what induces aU 
great men, of aU ages and countries, to commit so many 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 253 

victories and misdeeds, and inflict so many miseries upon 
mankind and on themselves, but the mere hope that some his- 
torian will kindly take them into notice, and admit them into 
a corner of his volume. For, in short, the mighty object of 
all their toils, their hardships, and privations, is notliing but 
immortal fame — and what is immortal fame? — why, half a page 
of dirty paper ! — Alas ! alas ! how humihating the idea — that the 
renown of so great a man as Peter Stuyvesant should depend 
upon the pen of so little a man as Diedrich Knickerbocker ! 

And now, having refreshed ourselves after the fatigues and 
perils of the field, it behoves us to return once more to the 
scene of conflict, and inquire what were the results of this 
renowned conquest. The fortress of Christina being the fair 
metropoHs, and in a manner the key to New-Sweden, its cap- 
ture was speedily followed by the entire subjugation of the 
province. This was not a little promoted by the gallant and 
courteous deportment of the chivakic Peter. Though a man 
terrible in battle, yet in the hour of victory was he endued 
with a spirit generous, merciful, and humane — he vaunted not 
over his enemies, nor did he make defeat more galling by un- 
manly insults; for hke that mirror of knightly virtue, the 
renowned Paladin Orlando, he was more anxious to do great 
actions than to talk of them after they were done. He put no 
man to death ; ordered no houses to be burnt down ; permitted 
no ravages to be perpetrated on the property of the van- 
quished, and even gave one of his bravest officers a severe 
admonishment with his walking-staff, for having been detected 
in the act of sacking a hen-roost. 

He moreover issued a proclamation, inviting the inhabitants 
to submit to the authority of their High Mightinesses; but 
declaring, with imexampled clemency, that whoever refused 
should be lodged, at the public expense, in a goodly castle pro- 
vided for the purpose, and have an armed retinue to wait 
on them in the bargain. In consequence of these beneficent 
terms, about thirty Swedes stepped manfully forward and 
took the oath of allegiance ; in reward for which, they were 
graciously permitted to remain on the banks of the Delaware, 
where their descendants reside at this very day. But I am 
told by divers observant travellers, that they have never been 
able to get over the chapfallen looks of their ancestors, and 
do still unaccountably transmit from father to son manifest 
marks of the sound drubbing given them by the sturdy Am- 
sterdammers. 



254 ^ BISTOEY OF NEW-YORK. 

The whole country of New-Sweden, having thus yielded to 
the arms of the triumphant Peter, was reduced to a colony, 
called South Eiver, and placed under the superintendence of 
a lieutenant-governor; subject to the control of the supreme 
government at New-Amsterdam. This great dignitary was 
called Mynheer WiUiam Beekman, or rather Beckmmi, who 
derived liis surname, as did Ovidius Naso of yore, from the 
lordly dimensions of his nose, which projected from the centre 
of his countenance like the beak of a parrot. He was the great 
progenitor of the tribe of the Beekmans, one of the most 
ancient and honourable families of the province, the members 
of which do gratefully coimnemorate the origin of their 
dignity, not as your noble famihes in England would do, by 
having a glowing proboscis emblazoned in their escutcheon, 
but by one and all wearing a right goodly nose stuck in the 
very middle of their faces. 

Thus was this perilous enterprise gloriously terminated with 
the loss of only two men— Wolfert Van Home, a tall, spare 
man, who was knocked overboard by the boom of a sloop, in a 
flaw of wind ; and fat Brom Van Bummel, who was suddenly 
carried off by an indigestion; both, however, were immortalized 
as having bravely fallen in the service of their country. True 
it is, Peter Stuyvesant had one of his lunbs terribly frac- 
tured, being shattered to pieces in the act of storming the 
fortress ; but as it was fortunately his wooden leg, the wound 
was promptly and effectually healed. 

And now nothing remains to this branch of my history, but 
to mention that this immaculate hero, and his victorious army, 
returned joyously to the Manhattoes, where they made a sol- 
emn and triumphant entry, bearing with them the conquered 
Risingh, and the remnant of his battered crew, who had 
refused allegiance ; for it appears that the gigantic Swede had 
only fallen into a swoon at the end of the battle, from whence 
he was speedily restored by a wholesome tweak of the nose. 

These captive heroes were lodged, according to the promise 
of the governor, at the pubHc expense, in a fair and spacious 
castle ; being the prison of state, of which Stoffel Brinkerhoff, 
the immortal conqueror of Oyster Bay, was appointed gover- 
nor ; and which has ever since remained in the possession of 
his descendants.* 



* This castle, though very much altered and modernized, is still in being, and 
fitandss at the corner of Pearl-street, facing Coenties' slip. 



Hi 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TOBK. 255 

It was a pleasant and goodly sight to witness the joy of the 
people of New- Amsterdam, at beholding their warriors once 
more return from this war in the wilderness. The old women 
thronged round Antony Van Corlear, who gave the whole 
history of the campaign with matchless accuracy : saving that 
he took ""the credit of fighting the whole battle himself, and 
especially of vanquishing the stout Risingh, which he consid- 
ered himself as clearly entitled to, seeing that it was effected 
by his own stone pottle. 

The schoolmasters throughout the town gave holyday to 
their little urchins, who followed in droves after the drmns, 
with paper caps on their heads, and sticks in their breeches, 
thus taking the first lesson in the art of war. As to the sturdy 
rabble, they thronged at the heels of Peter Stuyvesant wher- 
ever he went, waving their greasy hats in the air, and shout- 
ing " Hard-koppig Piet for ever!" 

It was, indeed, a day of roaring rout and jubilee. A huge 
dinner was prepared at the Stadt-house in honour of the con- 
querors, where were assembled, in one glorious constellation, 
the great and the little luixdnaries of New- Amsterdam. There 
were the lordly Schout and his obsequious deputy — the burgo- 
masters with their officious schepens at their elbows— the sub- 
altern officers at the elbows of the schepens, and so on to the 
lowest hanger-on of police ; every Tag having his Rag at his 
side, to finish his pipe, drink off his heel-taps, and laugh at his 
flights of immortal dulness. In short — for a city feast is a 
city feast aU the world over, and has been a city feast ever 
since the creation — the dinner went off much the same as do 
our great corporation junketings and fourth of July banquets. 
Loads of fish, flesh, and fowl were devoured, oceans of liquor 
drunk, thousands of pipes smoked, and many a dull joke hon- 
oured with much obstreperous fat-sided laughter. 

I must not omit to mention, that to this far-famed victory 
Peter Stuyvesant was indebted for another of his many titles 
—for so hugely dehghted were the honest burghers with his 
achievements, that they unanimously honoured him with the 
name of Pietre de Ch^oodt, that is to say, Peter the Great, or, as it 
was translated by the people of New- Amsterdam, Piet de Pig 
—an appellation which he maintained even unto the day of his 
death. 



256 ^ msTour of new-yobk. 



BOOK VII. 

CONTAINING THE THIRD FART OF THE FEIGN 0.' 
FETER THE HEADSTRONG— HIS TROUBLES WITH 
THE BRITISH NATION, AND THE DECLINE AND 
FALL OF THE DUTCH DYNASTY. 



CHAPTER I. 



HOW PETER STUYVESANT RELIEVED THE SOVEREIGN PEOPLE 
FROM THE BURTHEN OP TAKING CARE OF THE NATION — WITH 
SUNDRY PARTICULARS OF HIS CONDUCT IN TIME OF PEACE. 

The history of the reign of Peter Stuyvesant furnishes a 
melancholy picture of the incessant cares and vexations insep- 
arable from government ; and may serve as a solemn warning 
to all who are ambitious of attaining the seat of power. 
Though crowned with victory, enriched by conquest, and re- 
turning in triumph to his metropolis, his exultation was 
checked by beholding the sad abuses that had taken place dur- 
ing the short interval of his absence. 

The populace, unfortunately for their own comfort, had 
taken a deep draught of the intoxicating cup of power, during 
the reign of Wilham the Testy ; and though, upon the accession 
of Peter Stuyvesant, they felt, with a certain instinctive per- 
ception, which mobs as well as cattle possess, that the reins of 
government had passed into stronger hands, yet could they not 
help fretting and chafing and champing upon the bit in restive 
silence. 

It seems, by some strange and inscrutable fatahty, to be the 
destiny of most countries, (and more especially of your enlight- 
ened republics) always to be governed by the most incompetent 
man in the nation— so that you will scarcely find an individual, 
throughout the whole community, who cannot point out in- 
numerable errors in administration, and convince you, in the 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 257 

end, that had he been at the head of affairs, matters would 
have gone on a thousand times more prosperously. Strange ! 
that government, which seems to be so generally understood, 
should invariably be so erroneously administered — strange, 
that the talent of legislation, so prodigally bestowed, should be 
denied to the only man in the nation to whose station it is 
requisite ! 

Thus it was in the present instance ; not a man of all the 
herd of pseudo pohticians in New- Amsterdam, but was an 
oracle on topics of state, and could have directed public affairs 
incomparably better than Peter Stuyvesant. But so severe 
was the old governor, in his disposition, that he would never 
suffer one of the multitude of able counsellors by whom he 
was surrounded, to intrude his advice, and save the country 
from destruction. 

Scarcely, therefore, had he departed on his expedition against 
the Swedes, than the old factions of William Kieft's reign be- 
gan to thrust their heads above water, and to gather together 
in political meetings, to discuss "the state of the nation." At 
these assemblages, the busy burgomasters and their officious 
schepens made a very considerable figure. These worthy dig- 
nitaries were no longer the fat, well-fed, tranquil magistrate^ 
that presided in the peaceful days of Wouter Van Twiller — on 
the contrary, being elected by the people, they formed in a 
manner a sturdy bulwark between the mob and the adminis- 
tration. They were great candidates for popularity, and 
strenuous advocates for the rights of the rabble ; resembling in 
disinterested zeal the wide-mouthed tribunes of ancient Eome, 
or those virtuous patriots of modern days, emphatically de- 
nominated " the friends of the people." 

Under the tuition of these profound politicians, it is astonish- 
ing how suddenly enUghtened the swinish multitude became, 
in matters above their comprehensions. Cobblers, tinkers, 
and tailors, all at once felt themselves inspired, like those 
religious idiots, in the glorious times of monkish illumination ; 
and, without any previous study or experience, became in- 
stantly capable of directing all the movements of government. 
Nor must I neglect to mention a number of superannuated, 
wrong-headed old burghers, who had come over, when boys, 
in the crew of the Goede Vroiiiv, and were held up as infallible 
oracles by the enlightened mob. To suppose that a man who 
had helped to discover a country, did not know how it ought 
to be governed, was preposterous in the extreme. It would 



258 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

have been deemed as much a heresy, aS at the present day to 
question the pohtical talents and universal infallibility of our 
old " heroes of 76 " — and to doubt that he who had fought for 
a government, however stupid he might naturally be, was not 
competent to fill any station under it. 

But as Peter Stuyvesant had a singular inclination to govern 
his province without the assistance of his subjects, he felt 
highly incensed on his return to find the factious appearance 
they had assumed during his absence. His first measure, 
therefore, was to restore perfect order, by prostrating the 
dignity of the sovereign people. 

He accordingly watcned his opportunity, and one evening, 
when the enlightened mob was gathered together, hstening to 
a patriotic speech from an inspired cobbler, the intrepid Peter 
all at once appeared among them, with a eountenance suffi- 
cient to petrify a mill-stone. The whole meeting was thrown 
into consternation — the orator seemed to have received a 
paralytic stroke in the very middle of a sublime sentence, and 
stood aghast with open mouth and trembling knees, while the 
words horror ! tyranny ! liberty ! rights ! taxes ! death ! destruc- 
tion! and a deluge of other patriotic phrases, came roaring 
from his throat, before he had power to close his lips. The 
shrewd Peter took no notice of the skulking throng around 
him, but advancing to the brawhng bully-ruffian, and drawing 
out a huge silver watch which might have served in times of 
yore as a town clock, and which is still retained by his de- 
scendants as a family curiosity, requested the orator to mend 
it, and set it going. The orator hmnbly confessed it was 
utterly out of his power, as he was unacquainted with the 
nature of its construction. ' ' Nay, but, " said Peter, ' ' try your 
ingenuity, man ; you see all the springs and wheels, and how 
easily the clumsiest hand may stop it, and pull it to pieces ; 
and why should it not be equaUy easy to regulate as to stop 
it? The orator declared that his trade was wholly different— 
that he was a poor cobbler, and had never meddled with a 
watch in his life — that there were men skilled in the art, whose 
business it was to attend to those matters, but for his part, he 
should only mar the workmanship, and put the whole in con- 
fusion.— "Why, harkee, master of mine," cried Peter, turn- 
ing suddenly upon him, with a countenance that almost petri- 
fied the patcher of shoes iijto a perfect lap-stone — "dost thou 
pretend to meddle with the movements of government — to regu- 
late, and correct, and patch, and cobble a complicated machine, 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TOBK 259 

the principles of which are above thy comprehension, and its 
simplest operations too subtle for thy understanding; when 
thou canst not correct a trifling error in a common piece of 
mechanism, the whole mystery of which is open to thy in- 
spections—Hence with thee to the leather and stone, which are 
emblems of thy head ; cobble thy shoes, and confine thyself 
to the vocation for which Heaven has fitted thee.— But," 
elevating his voice until it made the welkin ring, ''if ever I 
catch thee, or any of thy tribe, meddling again with affairs of 
government, by St. Nicholas, but I'll have every mother's 
bastard of ye flay'd ahve, and your hides stretched for drum- 
heads, that ye may thenceforth make a noise to some purpose !" 

This threat, and the tremendous voice in which it was ut- 
tered, caused the whole multitude to quake with fear. The 
hair of the orator arose on his head like his own swine's 
bristles, and not a knight of the thimble present but his heart 
died within him, and he' felt as though he could have verily 
escaped through the eye of a needle. 

But though this measure produced the desired effect in re- 
ducing the community to order, yet it tended to injure the 
popularity of the great Peter among the enlightened vulgar. 
Many accused him. of entertaining highly aristocratic senti- 
ments, and of leaning too much in favour of the patricians. 
Indeed, there appeared to be some ground for such an accusa- 
tion, as he always carried himself with a very lofty, soldier- 
like port, and was somewhat particular in his dress ; dressing 
himself, when not in uniform, in simple, but rich apparel, and 
was especially noted for having his sound leg (which was a 
very comely one) always arrayed in a red stocking, and high- 
heeled shoe. Though a man of great simplicity of manners, 
yet there was something about him that repelled rude famiH- 
arity, while it encouraged frank, and even social intercourse. 

He likewise observed some appearance of court ceremony 
and etiquette. He received the common class of visitors on 
the stoops before his door according to the custom of our 
Dutch ancestors. But when visitors were formally received 
in his parlour, it was expected they would appear in clean 
linen; by no means to be bare-footed, and always to take their 
hats off. On pubhc occasions, he appeared with great pomp of 
equipage, (for, in truth, his station required a little show and 

* Properly spelled sioeh—t\ie porch commonly built in front of Dutch houses, 
with benches on each side. 



260 -^ niSTOIlY OF yEW-YORK. 

dignity) and always rode to church in a yellow wagon with 
flaming red wheels. 

These symptoms of state and ceremony occasioned consider- 
able discontent among the vulgar. They had been accustomed 
to find easy access to their former governors, and in particular 
had lived on terms of extreme familiarity with William the 
Testy. They therefore were very impatient of these dignified 
precautions, which discouraged intrusion. But Peter Stuyve- 
sant had his own way of thinking in these matters, and was a 
staunch upholder of the dignity of office. 

He always maintained that government to be the least popu- 
lar which is most open to popular access and control ; and that 
the very brawlers against court ceremony, and the reserve of 
men in power, would soon despise rulers among whom they 
found ^even themselves to be of consequence. Such, at least, 
had been the case with the administration of William the 
Testy ; who, bent on making himself popular, had listened to 
every man's advice, suffered everybody to have admittance to 
his person at all hours, and, in a word, treated every one as his 
thorough equal. By this means, every scrub politician, and 
public busy-body, was enabled to measure wits with him, and 
to find out the true dimensions, not only of his person, but his 
mind. — And what great man can stand such scrutiny? — It is 
the mystery that envelopes great men that gives them half 
their greatness. We are always inclined to think highly of 
those who hold themselves aloof from our examination. There 
is likewise a kind of superstitious reverence for office, which 
leads us to exaggerate the merits and abilities of men in power, 
and to suppose that they must be constituted different from 
other men. And, indeed, faith is as necessary in politics as in 
rehgion. It certainly is of the first importance, that a country 
should be governed by wise men ; but then it is almost equally 
important, that the people should believe them to be wise ; for 
this belief alone can produce willing subordination. 

To keep up, therefore, this desirable confidence in rulers, the 
people should be allowed to see as little of them as possible. 
He who gains access to cabinets soon finds out by what foolish- 
ness the world is governed. He discovers that there is quack- 
ery in legislation, as well as in every thing else ; that many a 
measure, which is supposed by the million to be the result of 
great wisdom, and deep deliberation, is the effect of mere 
chance, or, perhaps, of harebrained experiment — that rulers 
have their whims and errors as well as other men, and after 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK, 261 

all are not so wonderfully superior to their fellow-creatures as 
he at first imagined ; since he finds that even his own opinions 
have had some weight with them. Thus awe subsides into 
confidence, confidence inspires familiarity, and familiarity 
produces contempt. Peter Stuyvesant, on the contrary, by 
conducting himself with dignity and loftiness, was looked up 
to with great reverence. As he never gave his reasons for any 
thing he did, the public always gave him credit for very pro- 
found ones — every movement, however intrinsically unimpor- 
tant, was a matter of speculation, and his very red stockings 
excited some respect, as being different from the stockings of 
other men. 

To these times may. we refer the rise of family pride and 
aristocratic distinctions ;* and indeed, I cannot but look back 
with reverence to the early planting of those mighty Dutch 
families, which have taken such vigorous root, and branched 
out so luxuriantly in our state. The blood which has flowed 
down uncontaminated through a succession of steady, virtuous 
generations since the times of the patriarchs of Communipaw, 
must certainly be pure and worthy. And if so, then are the 
Van Eensselaers, the Van Zandts, the Van Homes, the Eut- 
gers, the Bensons, the Brinkerhoffs, the Schermerhornes, and 
all the true descendants of the ancient Pavonians, the only 
legitimate nobility and real lords of the soil. 

I have been led to mention thus particularly the well- 
authenticated claims of our genuine Dutch families, because I 
have noticed, with great sorrow and vexation, that they have 
been somewhat elbowed aside in latter days by foreign intrud- 
ers. It is really astonishing to behold how many great fami- 
lies have sprung up of late years, who pride themselves exces- 
sively on the score of ancestry. Thus he who can look up to 
his father without humiliation assumes not a little importance 
— he "who can safely talk of his grandfather, is still more vain- 
glorious — but he who can look back to his great-grandfather 
without blushing, is absolutely intolerable in his pretensions to 
family — ^bless us ! what a piece of work is here, between these 
mushrooms of an hour, and these mushrooms of a day I 

But from what I have recounted in the former part of this 

* In a work published many years after the time here treated of (in 1701, by C. 
W.- A. M.), it is mentioned that Frederick Philipse was counted the richest Mynheer 
in New- York, and was said to have whole hogsheads of Indian money or wampum; 
and had a son and daughter, who, according to the Dutch custom, should divide rt 
equall-^ 



^d;^ 



^T. U-LJ.KJ J. \yj.tl J. 



chapter, I would not have my reader imagine that the great 
Peter vf as a tyrannical governor, ruhng his subjects with a rod of 
iron — on the contrary, where the dignity of authority was not 
implicated, he abounded with generosity and courteous con- 
descension. In fact, he really beheved, though I fear my 
more enlightened republican readers will consider it a proof of 
his ignorance and illiberality, that in preventing the cup of 
social life from being dashed with the intoxicating ingredient 
of pohtics, he promoted the tranquillity and happiness of the 
people— and by detaching their minds from subjects which 
they could not understand, and which only tended to inflame 
their passions, he enabled them to attend more faithfully and 
industriously to their proper callings ; becoming more useful 
citizens, and more attentive to their families and fortunes. 

So far from having any unreasonable austerity, he delighted 
to see the poor and the labouring man rejoice, and for this pur- 
pose was a great promoter of holydays and pubhc amusements. 
Under his reign was first introduced the custom of cracking 
eggs at Paas, or Easter. New-year's day was also observed 
with extravagant festivity, and ushered in by the ringing of 
bells and firing of guns. Every house was a temple to the jolly 
god— oceans of cherry brandy, true Hollands, and mulled 
cider, were set afloat on the occasion ; and not a poor man in 
town but made it a point to get drunk, out of a principle of 
pure economy — ^taking in liquor enough to serve him for half 
a year afterwards. 

It would have done one's heart good, also, to have seen the 
valiant Peter, seated among the old burghers and their mves 
of a Saturday afternoon, under the great trees that spread 
their shade over the Battery, watching the young men and 
women, as they danced on the green. Here he would smoke 
his pipe, crack his joke, and forget the rugged toils of war in 
the sweet obhvious festivities of peace. He would occasionally 
give a nod of approbation to those of the young men who 
shufi3.ed and kicked most vigorously, and now and then give a 
hearty smack, in all honesty of soul, to the buxom lass that 
held out longest, and tired down all her competitors, which he 
considered as infallible proofs of her being the best dancer. 
Once, it is true, the harmony of the meeting was rather inter- 
rupted. A young vrouw, of great figure in the gay world, and 
who, having lately come from Holland, of course led the fash- 
ions in the city, made her appearance in not more than half-a- 
dozen petticoats, and these too of most alarming shortness. 



An universal whisper ran through the assembly, the old ladies 
all felt shocked in the extreme, the young ladies blushed, and 
felt excessively for the "poor thing," and even the governor 
himself was observed to be a httle troubled in mind. To com- 
plete the astonishment of the good folks, she undertook, in the 
course of a jig, to describe some astonishing figures in algebra, 
which she had learned from a dancmg-master at Eotterdam. 
Whether she was too animated in flourisliing her feet, or 
whether some vagabond zeyphr took the liberty of obtrudmg 
his services, certain it is that in the course of a grand evolu- 
tion, which would not have disgraced a modern ball-room, she 
made a most unexpected display — whereat the whole assembly 
was thrown into great admiration, several grave country 
members were not a httle moved, and the good Peter himself, 
who was a man of unparalleled modesty, felt himself grievously 
scandalized. 

The shortness of the female 'dresses, which had continued in 
fashion ever since the days of WiUiam Kief t, had long offended 
his eye, and though extremely averse to meddhng with the 
petticoats of the ladies, yet he immediately recommended that 
every one should be furnished with a flounce to the bottom. 
He likewise ordered that the ladies, and indeed the gentlemen, 
should use no other step in dancing, than shuffle-and-turn, and 
double-trouble ; and forbade, under pain of his high displeasure, 
any young lady thenceforth to attempt what was termed 
"exhibiting the graces." 

These were the only restrictions he ever imposed upon the 
sex, and these were considered by them as tyrannical oppres- 
sions, and resisted with that becoming spirit always mani- 
fested by the gentler sex, whenever their privileges are 
invaded. — In fact, Peter Stuyvesant plainly perceived that if 
he attempted to push the matter any farther, there was danger 
of their leaving off petticoats altogether ; so like a wise man, 
experienced in the ways of women, he held his peace, and suf- 
fered them ever after to wear their petticoate and cut their 
capers as high as they pleased. 



264 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 



CHAPTER II. 

HOW PETER STUYVESANT WAS MUCH MOLESTED BY THE MOSS- 
TROOPERS OF THE EAST, AND THE GIANTS OF MERRYLAND- 
AND HOW A DARK AND HORRID CONSPIRACY WAS CARRIED ON 
IN THE BRITISH CABINET AGAINST THE PROSPERITY OF THD 
MANHATTOES. 

We are now approaching towards the crisis of our work, 
and if I be not mistaken in my forebodings, we shaU have a 
world of business to despatch in the ensuing chapters. 

It is with some communities, as it is with certain meddle- 
some individuals, they have a wonderful facility at getting 
into scrapes ; and I have always remarked, that those are most 
hable to get in who have the least talent at getting out again. 
This is, doubtless, owing to the excessive valour of those 
states; for I have hkewise noticed that this rampant and 
ungovernable quality is always most unruly where most con- 
fined ; which accounts for its vapouring so amazingly in little 
states, little men, and ugly Httle women especially. 

Thus, when one reflects, that the province of the Manhattoes, 
though of prodigious importance in the eyes of its inhabitants 
and its historian, was really of no very great consequence in 
the eyes of the rest of the world ; that it had but little wealth 
or other spoils to reward the trouble of assailing it, and that it 
had nothing to expect from running wantonly into war, save an 
exceeding good beating.— On pondering these things, I say, one 
would utterly despair of finding in its history either battles or 
bloodshed, or any other of those calamities which give impor- 
tance to a nation, and entertainment to the reader. But, on 
the contrary, we find, so valiant is this province, that it has 
already drawn upon itself a host of enemies ; has had as many 
buffetings as would gratify the ambition of the most warlike 
nation ; and is, in sober sadness, a very forlorn, distressed, and 
woe-begone little province !— all which was, no doubt, kindly 
ordered by Providence, to give interest and subhmity to this 
pathetic history. 

But I forbear to enter into a detail of the pitiful maraudings 
and harassments, that, for a long while after the victory on 
the Delaware, continued to insult the dignity, and disturb the 
repose, of the Nederlanders. Suffice it in brevity to say, that 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 26;") 

the implacable hostility of the people of the east, which had 
so miraculously been prevented from breaking out, as my 
readers must remember, by the sudden prevalence of witch- 
craft, and the dissensions in the council of Amphyctions, now 
again displayed itself in a thousand grievous and bitter 
scourings upon the borders. 

Scarcely a month passed but what the Dutch settlements on 
the frontiers were alarmed by the sudden appearance of an 
invading army from Connecticut. This would advance reso- 
lutely through the country, Mke a puissant caravan of the 
deserts, the women and children mounted in carts loaded with 
pots and kettles, as though they meant to boil the honest 
Dutchmen alive, and devour them like so many lobsters. At 
the tails of these carts would stalk a crew of long-limbed, lank- 
sided varlets, with axes on their shoulders and packs on their 
backs, resolutely bent upon improving the country in despite 
of its proprietors. These, settling themselves down, would in 
a short time completely dislodge the unfortunate Nederland- 
ers ; elbowing them out of those rich bottoms and fertile val- 
leys, in which our Dutch yeomanry are so famous for nestling 
themselves. For it is notorious, that wherever these shrewd 
men of tne east get a footing, the honest Dutchmen do gradu- 
ally disappear, retiring slowly, hke the Indians before the 
whites; being totally discomfited by the talking, chaffering, 
swapping, bargaining disposition of their new neighbours. 

All these audacious infringements on the territories of their 
High Mightinesses were accompanied, as has before been 
hinted, by a world of rascally brawls, ribroastings, and bund 
lings, which would doubtless have incensed the valiant Peter 
to wreak immediate chastisement, had he not at the very same 
time been perplexed by distressing accounts from Mynheer 
Beckman, who commanded the territories at South river. 

The restless Swedes, who had so graciously been suffered to 
remain about the Delaware, already began to show signs of 
mutiny and disaffection. But what was worse, a peremptory 
claim was laid to the whole territory, as the rightful property 
of Lord Baltimore, by Feudal, a chieftain who ruled over the 
colony of Maryland, or Merry-land, as it was anciently called, 
because that the inhabitants, not having the fear of the Lord 
before their eyes, were notoriously prone to get fuddled and 
make merry with mint-julep and apple-toddy. Nay, so hostile 
was this bully Feudal, that he threatened, unless his claim was 
instantly complied with, to march incontinently at the head of 



266 ^ BISTORT OF NEW-YOKk, 

a potent force of the roaring boys of Merry-land, together with 
a great and mighty train of giants, who infested the banks of 
the Susquehanna*— and to lay waste and depopulate the whole 
country of South river. 

By this it is manifest, that this boasted colony, like all great 
acquisitions of territory, soon became a greater evil to the con- 
queror than the loss of it was to the conquered ; and caused 
greater uneasiness and trouble than all the territory of the 
New-Netherlands besides. Thus Providence wisely orders that 
one evil shall balance another. The conqueror who wrests the 
property of his neighbour, who wrongs a nation and desolates 
a country, though he may acquire increase of empire and im- 
mortal fame, yet insures his own inevitable punishment. He 
takes to himself a cause of endless anxiety — ^he incorporates 
with his late sound domain a loose part— a rotten, disaffected 
member; which is an exhaustless source of internal treason 
and disunion, and external altercation and hostihty. Happy 
is that nation, which compact, imited, loyal in all its parts, and 
concentrated in its strength, seeks no idle acquisition of un- 
profitable and ungovernable territory— which, content to be 
prosperous and happy, has no ambition to be great. It is like 
a man well organized in his system, sound in health, and full 
of vigour ; unencumbered by useless trappings, and fixed in an 
unshaken attitude. But the nation, insatiable of territory, 
whose domains are scattered, feebly united and wealdy organ- 
ized, is like a senseless miser sprawling among golden stores, 
open to every attack, and unable to defend the riches he vainly 
endeavours to overshadow. 

At the time of receiving the alarming despatches from South 
river, the great Peter was busily employed in quelHng certain 
Indian troubles that had broken out about Esopus, aiid was 
moreover meditating how to relieve his eastern borders on the 
Connecticut. He, however, sent word to Mynheer Beckman 
to be of good heart, to maintain incessant vigilance, and to let 



* We find very curious and wonderful accounts of these strange people (who 
were doubtless the ancestors of the present Marylanders) made by Master Hariot. 
in his interesting historJ^ "The Susquesahanocks," observer he," are a giatitly 
people, strange in proportion, behaviour, and attire— their voice sounding from 
them as if out of a cave. Their tobacco-pipes were three quarters of a yard long, 
carved at the great end with a bird, beare, or other device, sufiicient to beat out 
the brain es of a horse, Cand how many asses braines are beaten out, or rather 
men's braines smoked out, and asses braines haled in, by our lesser pipes at home.) 
The calfe of one of their legges measured three quarters of a yard about, the rest 
of his limbs proportionable."— iV/asfer HarioVs Journ. Purch. Pil. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 267 

him know if matters wore a more threatening appearance ; in 
which case he would incontinently repair with his warriors of 
the Hudson, to spoil the merriment of these Merry-landers; 
for he coveted exceedingly to have a bout, hand to hand, with 
some half a score of these giants— having never encountered a 
giant in his whole life, unless we may so call the stout Eisingh, 
and he was but a httle one. 

Nothing farther, however, occurred to molest the tran- 
quillity of Mynheer Beckman and his colony. Feudal and 
his myrmidons remained at home, carousing it soundly upon 
hoe-cakes, bacon, and mint-julep, and running horses, and 
fighting cocks, for which they were greatly renowned. — At 
hearing of this, Peter Stuyvesant was very well pleased, for 
notwithstanding his inclination to measure weapons with 
these monstrous men of the Susquehanna, yet he had already 
as much employment nearer home as he could turn his hands 
to. Little did he think, worthy soul, that this southern calm 
was but the deceitful prelude to a most terrible and fatal 
storm, then brewing, which was soon to burst forth and over- 
whelm the unsuspecting city of New- Amsterdam. 

Now so it was, that while this excellent governor was giving 
his httle senate laws, and not only giving them, but enforcing 
them too— while he was incessantly travelling the rounds of 
his beloved province— posting from place to place to redress 
grievances, and while busy at one corner of his dominions, all 
the rest getting into an uproar— at this very time, I say, a 
dark and direful plot was hatching against liim, in that 
nursery of monstrous projects, the British cabinet. The news 
of his achievements on the Delaware, according to a sage old 
historian of New- Amsterdam, had occasioned not a Httle talk 
and marvel in the courts of Europe. And the same profound 
writer assures us, that the cabinet of England began to enter- 
tain great jealousy and uneasiness at the increasing power of 
the Manhattoes, and the valour of its sturdy yeomanry. 

Agents, the same historian observes, were sent by the Am 
phyctionic council of the east to entreat the assistance of the 
British cabinet in subjugating this mighty province. Lord 
Sterling also asserted his right to Long Island, and at the same 
time, Lord Baltimore, whose agent, as has before been men- 
tioned, had so alarmed Mynheer Beckman, laid his claim be- 
fore the cabinet to the lands of South river, which he com- 
plained were unjustly and forcibly detained from him by these 
daring usurpers of the Nieuw-Nederlandts. 



^368 ^ HISTORY OF JS^EW-YOUK. 

Thus did the unlucky empire of the Manhattoes stand in 
imminent danger of experiencing the fate of Poland, and 
being torn limb from limb to be shared among its savage 
neighbours. But while these rapacious powers were whetting 
their fangs, and waiting for the signal to fall tooth and nail 
upon this delicious Httle fat Dutch empire, the lordly lion, who 
sat as umpire, all at once settled the claims of all parties, by 
laying this own paw upon the spoil. For we are told that his 
majesty, Charles the Second, not to be perplexed by adjusting 
these several pretensions, made a present of a large tract of 
North America, including the province of New-Netherlands, to 
his brother, the Duke of York— a donation truly loyal, since 
none but great monarchs have a right to give^ away what does 
not belong to them. 

That this munificent gift might not be merely nominal, his 
majesty, on the 12th of March, 1664, ordered that an armament 
should be forthwith prepared, to invade the city of New- Am- 
sterdam by land and water, and put his brother in complete 
possession of the premises. 

Thus critically are situated the affairs of the New-Nether- 
landers. The honest burghers, so far from thinking of the 
jeopardy in which their interests are placed, are soberly 
smoking their pipes, and thinking of nothing at all— the privy 
counsellors of the province are at this moment snoring in full 
quorum, while the acting Peter, who takes aU the labour of 
thinking and active upon himself, is busily devising some 
method of bringing the grand council of Amphyctions to 
terms. In the meanwhile, an angry cloud is darkly scowling 
on the horizon — soon shaU it rattle about the ears of these 
dozing Nederlanders, and put the mettle of their stout-hearted 
governor completely to the trial. 

But come what may, I here pledge my veracity that in aU 
warhke conflicts and subtle perplexities, he shall still acquit 
himself with the gallant bearing and spotless honour of a 
noble-minded, obstinate old cavaher. — Forward then to the 
charge! -shine out, propitious stars, on the renowned city of 
the Manhattoes ; and may the blessing of St. Nicholas go with 
thee— honest Peter Stuy vesant 1 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK 269 



CHAPTER III. 

OF PETER STUYVESANT'S EXPEDITION INTO THE EAST COUNTRY, 
SHOWING THAT THOUGH AN OLD BIRD HE DID NOT UNDER- 
STAND TRAP. 

Great nations resemble great men in this particular, that 
their greatness is seldom known until they get in trouble; 
adversity, therefore, has been wisely denominated the ordeal 
of true greatness, which, like gold, can never receive its real 
estimation, until it has passed through the furnace. In pro- 
portion, therefore, as a nation, a community, or an individual 
(possessing the inherent quahty of greatness) is involved in 
perils and misfortunes, in proportion does it rise in grandeur — 
and even when sinking under calamity, makes, like a house 
on fire, a more glorious display than ever it did in the fairest 
period of its prosperity. 

The vast empire of China, though teeming with population 
and imbibing and concentrating the wealth of nations, has 
vegetated through a succession of drowsy ages ; and were it 
not for its internal revolution, and the subversion of its ancient 
government by the Tartars, might have presented nothing but 
an uninteresting detail of dull, monotonous prosperity. Pom- 
peii and Herculaneum might have passed into obhvion, with a 
herd of their contemporaries, if they had not been fortunately 
overAvhelmed by a volcano. The renowned city of Troy has 
acquired celebrity only from its ten years' distress, and final 
conflagration— Paris rises in importance by the plots and mas- 
sacres which have ended in the exaltation of the illustrious 
Napoleon — and even the mighty London itself has skulked 
through the records of time, celebrated for nothing of moment, 
excepting the plague, the great fire, and Guy Faux's gun- 
powder plot!— Thus cities and empires seem to creep along, 
enlarging in silent obscurity under the pen of the historian, 
until at length they burst forth in some tremendous calamity 
^and snatch, as it were, immortality from the explosion ! 

The above principle being admitted, my reader will plainly 
perceive that the city of New- Amsterdam, and its dependent 
province, are on the high road to greatness. Dangers and 
hostilities threaten from every side, and it is really a matter 
of astonishment to me, how so small a state has been able, in 



270 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

so short a time, to entangle itself in so many difficjltieo. 
Ever since the province was first taken by the nose, at the 
Fort of Good Hope, in the tranquil days of Wouter Van 
Twiller, has it been gradually increasing in historic import- 
ance ; and never could it have had a more appropriate chief- 
tain to conduct it to the pinnacle of grandeur, than Peter 
Btuyvesant. 

In the fiery heart of this iron-headed old warrior sat en- 
throned all those five kinds of courage described by Aristotle, 
and had the philosopher mentioned five hundred morfe to the 
back of them, I verily believe he would have been found mas- 
ter of them all. The only misfortune was, that he was defi- 
cient in the better part of valour, called discretion, a cold- 
blooded virtue which could not exist in the tropical climate of 
his mighty soul. Hence it was, he was continually hurrying 
into those unheard-of enterprises that gave an air of chivalric 
romance to all his history, and hence it was that he now con- 
ceived a project worthy of the hero of La Mancha himself. 

This was no other than to repair in person to the great 
council of the Amphyctions, bearing the sword in one hand 
and the olive-branch in the other — to require immediate repa- 
ration for the innumerable violations of tha.t treaty which in 
an evil hour he had formed—to put a stop to those repeated 
maraudings on the eastern borders— or else to throw his 
gauntlet and appeal to arms for satisfaction. 

On declaring this resolution in his privy council, the vener- 
able members were seized with vast astonishment ; for once in 
their fives they ventured to remonstrate, setting forth the 
rashness of exposing his sacred person in the midst of a strange 
and barbarous people, with sundry other weighty remon- 
strances—all which had about as much influence upon the 
determination of the headstrong Peter as though you were to 
endeavour to turn a rusty weathercock with a broken- winded 
beUows. 

Summoning, therefore, to his presence his trusty follower, 
Antony Van Corlear, he commanded him to hold himself in 
i-eadiness to accompany him the following morning on this his 
hazardous enterprise. Now Antony the trumpeter was a little 
stricken in years, yet by dint of keeping up a good heart, and 
having never known care or sorrow, (having never been mar- 
ried,) he was still a hearty, jocund, rubicund, gamesome wag, 
and of great capacity in the doublet. This last was ascribed to 
his living a jolly life on those domains at the Hook, which 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 271 

Peter Stuy vesant had granted to him for his gallantry at Fort 
Casimir. 

Be this as it may, there was nothing that more dehghted 
Antony than this command of the great Peter, for he could 
have followed the stout-hearted old governor to the world's 
end with love and loyalty — and he moreover still remembered 
the frolicking, and dancing, and bundling, and other disports 
of the east country, and entertained dainty recollection of 
numerous kind and buxom lasses, whom he longed exceedingly 
again to encounter. 

Thus, then, did this mirror of hardihood set forth, with 
no other attendant but his trumpeter, upon one of the most 
perilous enterprises ever recorded in the annals of knight- 
errantry. For a single warrior to venture openly among a 
whole nation of foes; but above all, for a plain downright 
Dutchman to think of negotiating with the whole council of 
New-England — never was there known a more desperate un- 
dertaking !— Ever since I have entered upon the chronicles of 
this peerless, but hitherto uncelebrated, chieftain, has he kept 
me in a state of incessant action and anxiety with the toils and 
dangers he is constantly encountering. — Oh! for a chapter of 
the tranquil reign of Wouter Van Twiller, that I might repose 
on it as on a feather bed I 

Is it not enough, Peter Stuyvesant, that I have once already 
rescued thee from the machinations of these terrible Amphyc- 
tions, by bringing the whole powers of witchcraft to thine 
aid? — Is it not enough that I have followed thee undaunted, 
hke a guardian spirit, into the midst of the horrid battle of 
Fort Christina?— That I have been put incessantly to my 
trumps to keep thee safe and sound— now warding off with my 
single pen the shower of dastard blows that fell upon thy rear 
— now narrowly shielding thee from a deadly thrust, by a 
mere tobacco-box — now casing thy dauntless skull with ada- 
mant, when even thy stubborn ram-beaver failed to resist the 
sword of the stout Eisingh — and now, not merely bringing 
thee off alive, but trimnphant, from the clutches of the gigan- 
tic Swede, by the desperate means of a paltry stone pottle? — 
Is not all this enough, but must thou still be plunging into 
new difficulties, and jeopardizing in headlong enterprises, thy- 
self, thy trumpeter, and thy historian? 

And now the ruddy-faced Aurora, like a buxom chamber- 
maid, draws aside the sable curtains of the night, and out 
bounces from his bed the jolly red-haired Phoebus, startled at 



272 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK 

being caught so late in the embraces of Dame Thetis. With 
many a sable oath, he harnesses his brazen-footed steeds, and 
whips and lashes, and splashes up the firmament, like a loiter- 
ing post-boy, half an hour behind his time. And now behold 
that imp of fame and prowess, the headstrong Peter, bestrid- 
ing a raw-boned, switch-tailed charger, gallantly arrayed in 
full regimentals, and bracing on his thigh that trusty brass- 
hilted sword, which had wrought such fearful (Jeeds on the 
banks of the Delawane. 

Behold, hard after him, his doughty trumpeter Van Corlear, 
mounted on a broken- winded, wall-eyed, cahco mare ; his stone 
pottle, which had laid low the mighty Eisingh, slung under his 
arm, and his trumpet displayed vauntingly in his right hand, 
decorated with a gorgeous banner, on which is emblazoned the 
great beaver of the Manhattoes. See them proudly issuing 
out of the city gate like an iron-clad hero of yore, with his 
faithful 'squire at his heels, the populace following them with 
their eyes, and shouting many a parting wish and hearty 
cheering.— Farewell, Hardkoppig Piet! Farewell, honest An- 
tony ! — Pleasant be your wayfaring— prosperous your return ! 
The stoutest hero that ever drew a sword, and the worthiest 
trumpeter that ever trod shoe-leather ! 

Legends are lamentably silent about the events that befell our 
adventurers in this their adventurous travel, excepting the 
Stuy vesant manuscript, which gives the substance of a pleas- 
ant little leroic poem written on the occasion by Domini 
^gidius Luyck,* who appears to have been the poet laureat 
of New- Amsterdam. This inestimable manuscript assures us 
that it was a rare spectacle to behold the great Peter and his 
loyal follower hailing the morning sun, and rejoicing in the 
clear countenance of nature, as they pranced it through the 
pastoral scenes of Bloemen Dael ; t which in those days was a 
sweet and rural valley, beautified with many a bright wild 
flower, refreshed by many a pure streamlet, and erdivened 
here and there by a delectable little Dutch cottage, sheltered 
under some sloping hill, and almost buried in embowering 
trees. 

Now did they enter upon the confines of Connecticut, where 
they encountered many grievous difiiculties and perils. At 

* This Luyck was, moreover, rector of the Latin School in Nieuw-Nederlandt, 
1663. There are two pieces addressed to ^^idius Luyck, in D. Selyn's MSS. of 
poesies, upon his marriage with Judith Isendoorn. Old MS. 

t Now called Blooming Dale, about four miles from New- York. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 273 

one place they were assailed by a troop of country 'squires and 
militia colonels, who, mounted on goodly steeds, hung upon 
their rear for several miles, harassing them exceedingly with 
guesses and questions, more especially the worthy Peter, whose 
silver-chased leg excited not a little marvel. At another place, 
hard by the renowned town of Stamford, they were set upon 
by a great and mighty legion of church deacons, who imperi- 
ously demanded of them five shilKngs, for travelling on Gun- 
day, and threatened to carry them captive to a neighbouring- 
church, whose steeple peered above the trees; but these the 
vahant Peter put to rout with httle difficulty, insomuch that 
they bestrode their canes and galloped off in horrible con- 
fusion, leaving their cocked hats behind in the hurry of their 
flight. But not so easily did he escape from the hands of 
a crafty man of Piquag; who, with undaunted perseverance, 
and repeated onsets, fairly bargained him out of his goodly 
switched-tailed charger, leaving in place thereof a villainous 
foundered Narraganset pacer. 

But, maugre all these hardships, they pursued their journey 
cheerily along the course of the soft flowing Connecticut, 
whose gentle waves, says the song, roll through many a fer- 
tile vale and sunny plain ; now reflecting the lofty spires of the 
bustling city, and now the rural beauties of the humble ham- 
let ; now echoing with the busy hum of commerce, and now 
with the cheerful song of the peasant. 

At every town would Peter Stuyvesant, who was noted for 
warlike punctiho, order the sturdy Antony to sound a cour- 
teous salutation; though the manuscript observes, that the 
inhabitants were thrown into gTeat dismay when they heard 
of his approa>ch. For the fame of his incomparable achieve- 
ments on the Delaware had spread throughout the east comi- 
try, and they dreaded lest he had come to take vengeance on 
their manifold transgressions. 

But the good Peter rode through these towns with a smiling 
aspect ; waving his hand with inexpressible majesty and con- 
descension ; for he verily believed that the old clothes wliich 
these ingenious people had thrust into their broken windows, 
and the festoons of dried apples and peaches which ornamented 
the fronts of their houses, were so many decorations in honour 
of his approach ; as it was the custom, in the days of chivahcy, 
to comphment renOT\Tied heroes by sumptuous displays of 
tapestry and gorgeous furniture. The women crowded to the 
doors to gaze upon him as he passed, so much does prowess in 



274 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

arms delight the gentle sex. The little children, too, ran after 
him in troops, staring with wonder at his regimentals, his 
brimstone breeches, and the silver garniture of his wooden 
leg. Nor must I omit to mention the joy which many strap- 
ping wenches betrayed at beholding the jovial Van Corlear, 
who had whilom delighted them so much with his trumpet, 
when he bore the great Peter's challenge to the Amphyctions. 
The kind-hearted Antony alighted from his calico mare, and 
kissed them all with infinite loving kindness— and was right 
pleased to see a crew of little trumpeters crowding around him 
for his blessing; each of whom he patted on the head, bade 
him be a good boy, and gave him a. penny to buy molasses 
candy. 

The Stuy vesant manuscript makes but little farther mention 
of the governor's adventures upon this expedition, excepting 
that he was received with extravagant courtesy and respect 
by the great council of the Amphyctions, who almost talked 
him to death with complimentary and congratulatory ha- 
rangues. I will not detain my readers by dweUing on his 
negotiations with the grand council. Suffice it to mention, it 
was like all other negotiations — a great deal was said, and very 
little done: one conversation led to another — one conference 
begat misunderstandings which it took a dozen conferences to 
explain ; at the end of which, the parties found themselves just 
where they were at first ; excepting that they had entangled 
themselves in a host of questions of etiquette, and conceived a 
cordial distrust of each other, that rendered their future nego- 
tiations ten times more difficult than ever.* 

In the midst of all these perplexities, which bewildered the 
brain and incensed the ire of the sturdy Peter, who was per- 
haps of all men in the world least fitted for diplomatic wiles, 
he privately received the first intimation of the dark con- 
spiracy which had been matured in the Cabinet of England. 
To this was added the astounding intelligence that a hostile 
squadron had already sailed from England, destined to reduce 
the province of New-Netherlands, and that the grand council 
of Amphyctions had engaged to co-operate, by sending a great 
army to invade New- Amsterdam by land. 

Unfortunate Peter! did I not enter with sad forebodmg 



* For certain of the particulars of this ancient negotiation see Haz. Col. State 
Papers. It is singular that Smith is entirely silent with respect to this memorable 
expedition of Peter Stuyvesant. 



A niSTORY OF NEW YORK. 275 

upon this ill-starred expedition? did I not tremble when I saw 
thee, with no other counsellor but thine own head, with no 
other armour but an honest tongue, a spotless conscience, and 
a rusty sword ! with no other protector but St. Nicholas — and 
no other attendant but a trumpeter — did I not ti-emble when I 
beheld thee thus sally forth to contend with all the knowing 
powers of New-England? 

Oh, how did the sturdy old warrior rage and roar, when ho 
found himself thus entrapped, hke a lion in the hunter's toil ! 
Now did he determine to draw his trusty sword, and manfully 
to fight his way through all the countries of the east. Now 
did he resolve to break in upon the council of the Amphyc- 
tions, and put every mother's son of them to death. At length, 
as his direful wrath subsided, he resorted to safer though less 
glorious expedients. 

Conceahng from the council his knowledge of their machi- 
nations, he privately dispatched a trusty messenger, with mis- 
sives to his counsellors at New- Amsterdam, apprising them of 
the impending danger, commanding them immediately to put 
the city in a posture of defence, while in the meantime he 
would endeavour to elude his enemies and come to their assist- 
ance. This done, he felt himself marvellously relieved, rose 
slowly, shook himself like a rhinoceros, and issued forth from 
his den, in much the same manner as Giant Despair is de- 
scribed to have issued from Doubting Castle, in the chivalric 
history of the Pilgrim's Progress. 

And now, much does it grieve me that I must leave the gal- 
lant Peter in this imminent jeopardy: but it behoves us to 
hurry back and see what is going on at New-Amsterdam, for 
greatly do I fear that city is already in a turmoil. Such was 
ever the fate of Peter Stuy vesant ; while doing one thing with 
heart and soul, he was too apt to leave every thing else at 
sixes and sevens. While, like a potentate of yore, he was 
absent, attending to those things in person, which in modern 
days are trusted to generals and ambassadors, his little terri- 
tory at home was sure to get in an uproar. — All which was 
owing to that uncommon strength of intellect which induced 
him to trust to nobody but himself, and which had acquired 
him the renowned appellation of Peter the Headstrong, 



276 A HISTORY OF NEW-TOliK. 



CHAPTER IV. 

HOW THE PEOPLE OF NEW-AMSTERDAM WERE THROWN INTO A 
GREAT PANIC, BY THE NEWS OF A THREATENED INVASION, 
AND THE MANNER IN WHICH THEY FORTIFIED THEMSELVES. 

There is no sight more truly interesting to a philosopher, 
than to contemplate a community, where every individual has 
a voice in public affairs, where every individual thinks him- 
self the Atlas of the nation, anci where every individual thinks 
it his duty to bestir himself for the good of his country. — 
I say, there is nothing more interesting to a philosopher, than 
to see such a community in a sudden bustle of war. Such a 
clamour of tongues — such a bawling of patriotism — such run- 
ning hither and thither —every body in a hurry— every body 
up to the ears in trouble— every body in the ^v^ay, and every 
body interrupting his industrious neighbour — who is busily 
employed in doing nothing ! It is like witnessing a great fire, 
where every man is at work hke a hero— some dragging about 
empty engines — others scampering with full buckets, and spill- 
ing the contents into the boots of their neighbours — and others 
ringing the church bells all night, by way of putting out the 
fire. Little firemen, like sturdy little knights storming a 
breach, clambering up and down scaling-ladders, and bawling 
through tin trumpets, by way of directing the attack. — Here 
one busy fellow, in his great zeal to save the property of the 
unfortunate, catches up an anonymous chamber utensil, and 
gallants it off with an air of as much self-importance, as if he 
had rescued a pot of money — another throws looking-glasses 
and china out of the window, to save them from the flames, 
whilst those who can do nothing else to assist the great calam- 
ity, run up and down the streets with open throats, keeping 
up an incessant cry of Fire ! Fh^e ! Fire ! 

"When the news arrived at Sinope," says the grave and 
profound Lucian— though I own the story is rather trite, ' ' that 
Philip was about to attack them, the inhabitants were thrown 
'nto violent alarm. Some ran to furbish up their arms ; others 
rolled stones to build up the walls— every body, in short, was 
employed, and every body was in the way of his neighbour. 
Diogenes alone was the only man who could find nothing to do 
— whereupon, determining not to be idle when the welfare of 



A mSTORT OF NEW-YORK. 277 

"his country was at stake, he tucked up his robe, and fell to 
rolling his tub with might and main up and down the Gymna- 
sium." In like manner did every mother's son, in the patr^tic 
community of New- Amsterdam, on receiving the missives of 
Peter Stuyvesant, busy himself most mightily in putting 
things in confusion, and assisting the general uproar. "Every 
man" — saith the Stuyvesant manuscript — " flew to arms!" — by 
which is meant, that not one of our honest Dutch citizens 
would venture to church or to market, without an old-fash- 
ioned spit of a sword dangling at his side, and a long Dutch 
fowling-piece on his shoulder — nor would he go out of a night 
without a lantern; nor turn a corner without first peeping 
cautiously round, lest he should come unawares upon a British 
army. — And we are informed that Stoffel Brinkerhoff, who 
was considered by the old women almost as brave a man as 
the governor himself — actually had two one-pound swivels 
mounted in his entry, one pointing out at the front door, and 
the other at the back. 

But the most strenuous measure resorted to on this awful 
occasion, and one which has since been found of wonderful 
efficacy, was to assemble popular meetings. These brawling 
convocations, I have already shown, were extremely offensive 
to Peter Stuyvesant, but as this was a moment of unusual agi- 
tation, and as the old governor was not present to repress 
them, they broke out with intolerable violence. Hither, there- 
fore, the orators and politicians repaired, and there seemed to 
be a competition among them who should bawl the loudest, 
and exceed the others in hyperbohcal bursts of patriotism, 
and in resolutions to uphold and defend the Government. In 
these sage and all-powerful meetings, it was determined, nem. 
con., that they were the most enlightened, the most dignified, 
the most formidable, and the most ancient community upon 
the face of the earth. Finding that this resolution was so uni- 
versally and readily carried, another was immediately pro- 
posed — whether it were not possible and politic to exterminate 
Great Britain? upon which sixty-nine members spoke most 
eloquently in the affirmative, and only one rose to suggest 
some doubts— who, as a punishment for his treasonable pre- 
sumption, was immediately seized by the mob, and tarred and 
feathered — which punishment being equivalent to the Tarpeian 
Rock, he was afterwards considered as an outcast from society, 
and his opinion went for nothing. The question, therefore, 
being unanimously carried in the affirmati-ve. it was recom' 



278 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-YOBK. 

mended to the grand council to pass it into a law ; which was 
accordingly done. — By this measure, the hearts of the people 
at Urge were wonderfully encouraged, and they waxed exceed- 
ing choleric and valorous. Indeed, the first paroxysm of 
alarm having in some measure subsided ; the old women hav- 
ing buried all the money they could lay their hands on, and 
their husbands daily getting fuddled with what was left — the 
community began even to stand on the offensive. Songs were 
manufactured in Low Dutch, and sung about the streets, 
wherein the English were most woefully beaten, and shown no 
quarter; and j)opular addresses were made, wherein it was 
proved to a certainty that the fate of Old England depended 
upon the will of New-Amsterdammers. 

Finally, to strike a violent blow at the very vitals of Great 
Britain, a multitude of the wiser inhabitants assembled, and 
having purchased all the British manufactures they could find, 
they made thereof a huge bonfire ; and in the patriotic glow of 
the moment, every man present, who had a hat or breeches of 
English workmanship, pulled it off, and threw it mast un- 
dauntedly into the flames— to the irreparable detriment, loss, 
and ruin of the English manufacturers. In commemoration of 
this great exploit, they erected a pole on the spot, with a de- 
vice on the top intended to represent the province of Nieuw- 
Nederlandts destroying Great Britain, under the similitude of 
an eagle picking the little island of Old England out of the 
globe ; but either through the unskilf ulness of the sculptor, or 
his ill-timed waggery, it bore a striking resemblance to a. 
goose vainly striving to get hold of a dumpling. 



CHAPTER V. 



SHOWING HOW THE GRAND COUNCIL OF THE NEW-NETHERLANDS 
CAME TO BE MIRACULOUSLY GIFTED WITH LONG TONGUES- 
TOGETHER WITH A GREAT TRIUMPH OF ECONOMY. 

It will need but very little penetration in any one ac- 
quainted with the character and habits of that most potent 
and blustering monarch, the sovereign people, to discover 
that, notwithstanding all the bustle and talk of war that 
stunned him in the last chapter, the renowned city of New 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TOBK. 279 

Amsterdam is, in sad reality, not a Tvhit better prepared for 
defence than before. Now, though the people, having gotten 
over the first alarm, and finding no enemy inunediately at 
hand, had, with that valour of tongue for which your illustri- 
ous rabble is so famous, run into the opposite extreme, and by 
dint of gallant vapouring and rodomontado, had actually 
talked themselves into the opinion that they were the bravest 
and most powerful people under the sun, yet were the privy 
counsellors of Peter Stuyvesant somewhat dubious on that 
point. They dreaded moreover lest that stern hero should re- 
turn, and find, that instead of obeying his peremptory orders, 
they had wasted their time in listening to the hectorings of the 
mob, than which, they well knew, there was nothing he held 
in more exalted contempt. 

To make up, therefore, as speedily as possible, for lost time, 
a grand divan of the counsellors and burgomasters was con- 
vened, to talk over the critical state of the province, and de- 
vise measures for its safety. Two things were unanimously 
agreed upon in this venerable assembly: — first, that the city 
required to be put in a state of defence ; and, secondly, that as 
the danger was imminent, there should be no tune lost — which 
I)oints being settled, they immediately fell to making long 
speeches, and belabouring one another in endless and intem- 
perate disputes. For about this time was this unhappy city 
first visited by that talking endemic, so universally prevalent 
in this country, and which so invariably evinces itself wher- 
ever a number of wise men assemble together ; breaking out in 
long, windy speeches, caused, as physicians suppose, by the 
foul air which is ever generated in a crowd. Now it was, more- 
over, that they first introduced the ingenious method of meas- 
uring the merits of a harangue by the hour-glass; he being 
considered the ablest orator who spoke longest on a question. 
For which excellent invention, it is recorded, we are indebted 
to the same profound Dutch critic who judged of books by 
their size. 

This sudden passion for endless harangues, so little con- 
sonant with the customary gravity and taciturnity of our sage 
forefathers, was supposed, by certain learned philosophers, t« 
have been imbibed, together with divers other barbarous pro- 
pensities, from their savage neighbours; who were peculiarly 
noted for their long talks and council fires —who would never 
undertake any affair of the least importance, without previous 
debates and harangues among their chiefs and old men. But 



230 A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

the Beal cause was, that the people, in electing their represent- 
atives to the grand council, were particular in choosing them 
for their talents at talking, without inquiring whether they 
possessed the more rare, difficult, and ofttimes important talent 
of holding their tongues. The consequence was, that this de- 
liberative body was composed of the most loquacious men in 
the community. As they considered themselves placed there 
to talk, every man concluded that his duty to his constituents, 
and, what is more, his popularity with them, required that he 
should harangue on every subject, whether he understood it or 
not. There was an ancient mode of burying a chieftain, by 
every soldier throwing his shield full of earth on the corpse, 
until a mighty mound was formed ; so, whenever a question 
was brought forward in this assembly, every member pressing 
forward to throw on his quantum of wisdom, the subject was 
quickly buried under a huge mass of words. 

We are told, that when disciples were admitted into the 
school of Pythagoras, they were for two years enjoined silence, 
and were neither permitted to ask questions nor make re- 
marks. After they had thus acquired the inestimable art of 
holding their tongues, they were gradually permitted to make 
inquiries, and finally to communicate their own opinions. 

What a pity is it, that, while superstitiously hoarding up 
the rubbish and rags of antiquity, we should suffer these pre- 
cious gems to he unnoticed! What a beneficial effect would 
this wise regulation of Pythagoras have, if introduced in leg- 
islative bodies — and how wonderfully would it have tended to 
expedite business in the grand council of the Manhattoes ! 

Thus, however, did dame Wisdom, (whom the wags of 
antiquity have humorously personified as a woman.) seem to 
take mischievous pleasure in jilting the venerable counsellors 
of New- Amsterdam. The old factions of Long Pipes and Short 
Pipes, which had been almost strangled by the herculean grasp 
of Peter Stuyvesant, now sprung up with tenfold violence. 
Not that the original cause of difference still existed, — ^but, it has 
ever been the fate of party names and party rancour to remain, 
long after the principles that gave rise to them have been for- 
gotten. To complete the public confusion and bewilderment, 
the fatal word Economy, which one would have thought was 
dead and buried with William the Testy, was once more set 
afloat, like the apple of discord, in the grand council of Nieuw- 
Nederlandts — according to which sound principle of pohcy, it 
was deemed more expedient to throw away twenty thousand 



A HISTORY OF NBW-TORK. 281 

guilders upon an inefficacious plan of defence, than thirty 
thousand on a good and substantial one — the province thus 
making a clear saving of ten thousand guilders. 

But when they came to discuss the mode of defence, then be- 
gan a war of words that baffles aU description. The members 
being, as I observed, enhsted in opposite parties, were enabled 
to proceed with amazing system and regularity in the discus- 
sion of the questions before them. Whatever was proposed 
by a Long Pipe, was opposed by the whole tribe of Short 
Pipes, who, like true politicians, considered it their first duty 
to effect the downfall of the Long Pipes— their ^second, to ele- 
vate themselves — and their third, to consult the welfare of the 
country. This at least was the creed of the most upright 
among the party ; for as to the great mass, they left the third 
consideration out of the question altogether. 

Li this great colhsion of hard heads, it is astonishing the 
number of projects for defence that were struck out, not one 
of which had ever been heard of before, nor has been heard of 
since, unless it be in very modern days— projects that threw 
the windmill system of the iagenious Kieft completely in the 
background. StiU, however, nothing could be decided on ; for 
so soon as a formidable host of air castles were reared by one 
party, they were demoHshed by the other. The simple popu- 
lace stood gazing in anxious expectation of the mighty e^g 
that was to be hatched with aU this cackling ; but they gazed in 
vain, for it appeared that the grand council was determined to 
protect the province as did the noble and gigantic Pantagruel 
his army — ^by covering it with his tongue. 

Indeed, there was a portion of the members, consisting of 
fat, self-important old burghers, who smoked their pipes and 
said nothing, exceptiag to negative every plan of defence that 
was offered. These were of that class of wealthy old citizens, 
who, having amassed a fortune, button up their pockets, shut 
their mouths, look rich, and are good for nothing all the rest 
of their lives. Like some phlegmatic oyster, which, having 
swallowed a pearl, closes its shell, settles down m the mud, 
and parts with its life sooner than its treasure. Every plan 
of defence seemed to these worthy old gentlemen pregnant 
with ruin. An armed force was a legion of locust?, preying 
upon the public property— to fit out a naval armament, was to 
throw their money ni+o the sea — to build fortifications was to 
bury it in the dirt. In short, they settled it as a sovereign 
maxim, so long as their pockets were full, no matter how 



282 A HISTORY OF NEW-TORR. 

much they were drubbed — a kick left no scar— a broken head 
cured itself —but an empty purse Avas of all maladies the 
slowest to heal, and one in which nature did nothing for the 
patient. 

Thus did this venerable assembly of sages lavish away that 
time which the urgency of affairs rendered invaluable, in 
empty brawls and long-winded speeches, without ever agree- 
ing, except on the point with which they started, namely, 
that there was no time to be lost, and delay was ruinous. At 
lengtli St. Nicholas, taking compassion on their distracted 
situation, an^ anxious to preserve them from anarchy, so 
ordered, that in the midst of one of their most noisy debates 
on the subject of fortification and defence, when they had 
nearly fallen to loggerheads in consequence of not being able 
to convince each other, the question was happily settled by a 
messenger, who bounced into the chamber and informed them 
that the hostile fleet had arrived, and was actually advancing 
up the bay ! 

Thus was all farther necessity of either fortifying or disput- 
ing completely obviated, and thus was the grand council saved 
a world of words, and the province a world of expense— a 
most absolute and glorious triumph of economy 1 



CHAPTER VI. 



IN WHICH THE TROUBLES OF NEW-AMSTERDAM APPEAR TO 
THICKEN— SHOWING THE BRAVERY, IN TIME OF PERIL, OP A 
PEOPLE WHO DEFEND THEMSELVES BY RESOLUTIONS. 

Like as an assemblage of poUtic cats, engaged in clamorous 
gibberings, and caterwaulings, eyeing one another with hide- 
ous grimaces, spitting in each other's faces, and on the point of 
breaking forth into a general clapper-clawing, are suddenly 
put to scampering rout and confusion by the startling appear- 
ance of a house-dog— so was the no less vociferous council of 
New- Amsterdam amazed, astounded, and totally dispersed by 
the sudden arrival of the enemy. Every member made the 
best of his way home, waddhng along as fast as his short legs 
could fag under their heavy burden, and wheezing as he went 
with corpulency and terror. When he arrived at his castle. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TOKK. ^S'd 

he barricadoed the street door, and buried himself in the cider 
cellar, without daring to peep out, lest he should have his 
head carried off by a cannon-ball. 

The sovereign people all crowded into the market-place, 
herding together with the instinct of sheep, who seek for 
safety in each other's company, when the shepherd and his 
dog are absent, and the wolf is prowling round the fold. Far 
from finding relief, however, they only increased each other's 
terrors. Each man looked ruefully in his neighbour's face, in 
search of encouragement, but only foiuid in its woe-begone 
lineaments a confirmation of his own dismay. Not a word 
now was to be heard of conquering Great Britain, not a whis- 
per about the sovereign virtues of economy — while the old 
women heightened the general gloom by clamorously bewail- 
ing their fate, and incessantly calling for protection on Saint 
Nicholas and Peter Stuyvesant. 

Oh, how did they bewail the absence of the Hon-hearted 
Peter !— and how did they long for the comforting presence of 
Antony Van Corlear! Indeed, a gloomy uncertainty hung 
over the fate of these adventurous heroes. Day after day had 
elapsed since the alarming message from the governor, with- 
out bringing any farther tidings of his safety. Many a fearful 
conjecture was hazarded as to what had befallen him and his 
loyal 'squire. Had they not been devoured ahve by the can- 
nibals of Marblehead and Cape Cod? — were they not put to 
the question by the great council of Amphyctions?— were they 
not smothered in onions by the terrible men of Piquag? — In 
the midst of this consternation and perplexity, when horror, 
like a mighty nightmare, sat brooding upon the httle fat, ple- 
thoric city of New- Amsterdam, the ears of the multitude were 
suddenly startled by a strange and distant sound — it ap- 
proached — it grew louder and louder — and now it resounded at 
the city gate. The public could not be mistaken in the weU- 
known sound — a shout of joy burst from their hps, as the gal- 
lant Peter, covered with dust, and followed by his faithful 
trumpeter, came galloping into the market-place. 

The first transports of the populace having subsided, they 
gathered round the honest Antony, as he dismounted from his 
horse, overwhelming him with greetings and congratulations. 
In breathless accents he related to them the marvellous adven- 
tures through which the old governor and himself had gone, in 
making their escape from the clutches of the terrible Amphyc 
tions. But though the Stuyvesant manuscript, with its cus 



284 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

tomaiy minuteness, where anything touching the great Peter 
is concerned, is very particular as to the incidents of this mas- 
terly retreat, yet the particular state of the pubUc affairs will 
not allow me to indulge in a full recital thereof. Let it suffice 
to say that while Peter Stuyvesant was anxiously revolving in 
his mind how he could make good his escape with honour and 
dignity, certain of the ships sent out for the conquest of the 
Manhattoes touched at the eastern ports, to obtain needful sup- 
plies, and to call on the grand council of the league for its pro- 
mised co-operation. Upon hearing of this, the vigilant Peter, 
perceiving that a moment's delay were fatal, made a secret 
and precipitate decampment, though much did it grieve his 
lofty soul to be obliged to turn his back even upon a nation of 
foes. Many hair-breadth 'scapes and divers perilous mishaps 
did they sustain, as they scoured, without sound of trumpet, 
through the fair regionis of the east. Already was the country 
in an uproar with hostile preparation, and they were obhged 
to take a large cii'cuit in their flight, lurking along through the 
woody moimtains of the Devil's Back-bone ; from whence the 
valiant Peter saUied forth one day, like a lion, and put to rout 
a whole legion of squatters, consisting of three generations of a 
prolific family, who were already on their way to take posses- 
sion of some corner of the New-Netherlands. Nay, the faithful 
Antony had great difficulty at sundry times to prevent him, 
in the excess of his wrath, from descending down from the 
mountains, and falling, sword in hand, upon certain of the 
border towns, who were marshalhng forth their draggletailed 
militia. 

The first movements of the governor, on reaching his dwell- 
ing, was to mount the roof, from whence he contemplated, 
with rueful aspect, the hostile squadron. This had already 
come to anchor in the bay, and consisted of two stout frigates, 
having on board, as John Josselyn, Gent., informs us, " three 
hundred vahant red-coats." Having taken this survey, he 
sat himself down, and wrote an epistle to the commander, 
demanding the reason of his anchoring in the harbour without 
obtaining previous permission so to do. This letter was 
couched in the most dignified and courteous terms, though I 
have it from undoubted authority, that his teeth were clinched, 
and he had a bitter sardonic grin upon his visage all the while 
he wrote. Having despatched his letter, the grim Peter 
stumped to and fro about the town, with a most war-betoken' 
ing countenance, his hands thrust into his breeches pockets, 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 285 

and whistliQg a Low Dutch psalm tune, which bore no small 
resemblance to the music of a north-east wind, when a storm 
is brewing. The very dogs, as they eyed him, skulked away 
LQ dismay — while all the old and ugly women of New- Amster- 
dam ran howling at his heels, imploring him to save them from 
murder, robbery, and pitiless ravishment ! 

The reply of Col. Nichols, who commanded the invaders, was 
couched in terms of equal courtesy with the letter of the gov^ 
ernor — declaring the right and title of his British Majesty to 
the province, where he affirmed the Dutch to be mere interlop- 
ers; and demanding that the town, forts, etc., should be forth- 
with rendered into his majesty's obedience and protection- 
promising at the same time, life, hberty, estate, and free trade, 
to every Dutch denizen who should readily submit to his 
majesty's government. 

Peter Stuyvesant read over this friendly epistle with some 
such harmony of aspect as we may suppose a crusty farmer, 
who has long been fattening upon his neighbour's soil, reads 
the loving letter of John Stiles, that warns him of an action oi 
ejectment. The old governor, however, was not to be taken 
hj surprise, but thrusting the summons into his breeches pocket, 
he stalked three times across the room, took a pinch of snuff 
with great vehemence, and then loftily waving his hand, 
promised to send an answer the next morning. In the mean- 
time, he called a general council of war of his privy counsellors 
and burgomasters, not for the purpose of asking their advice, 
for that, as has already been shown, he valued not a rush ; but 
to make known unto them his sovereign determination, and 
require their prompt adherence. 

Before, however, he convened his council, he resolved upon 
three important points : first, never to give up the city without 
a little hard fighting, for he deemed it highly derogatory to the 
dignity of so renowned a city to suffer itself to be captured 
and stripped, without receiving a few kicks into the bargam 
—secondly, that the majority of his grand council was com- 
posed of arrant poltroons, utterly destitute of true bottom — 
and, thirdly, that he would not therefore suffer them to see the 
summons of Col. Nichols lest the easy terms it held out might 
induce them to clamour for a surrender. 

His orders being duly promulgated, it was a piteous sight to 
behold the late valiant burgomasters, who had demoUshed the 
whole British empire in their harangues, peeping ruefully out 
of their hiding-places, and then crawhng cautiously forth; 



286 ^ BISTORT OF NEW-TOEK. 

dodging through narrow lanes and alleys ; starting at every 
httle dog that barked, as though it had been a discharge of 
artillery — mistaking lamp-posts for British grenadiers, and, in 
the excess of their panic, metamorphosing pumps into for- 
midable soldiers, levelling blunderbusses at their bosoms! 
Having, however, in despite of numerous perils and difficulties 
of the kind, arrived safe, without the loss of a single man, at 
the hall of assembly, they took their seats, and awaited in fear- 
ful silence the arrival of the governor. In a few moments the 
wooden leg of the intrepid Peter was heard in regular and 
stout-hearted thumps upon the staircase. He entered the 
chamber arrayed in a full suit of regimentals, and carrying his 
trusty toledo, not girded on his thigh, but tucked under his 
arm. As the governor never equipped himself in this porten- 
tous manner, unless something of a martial nature were work- 
ing within his fearless pericranium, his council regarded him 
ruefully, as if they saw fire and sword in his iron countenance, 
and forgot to light their pipes in breathless suspense. 

The great Peter was as eloquent as he was valorous— indeed, 
these two rare qualities seemed to go hand in hand in his com- 
position; and, unlike most great statesmen, whose victories 
are only confined to the bloodless field of argument, he was 
always ready to enforce his hardy words by no less hardy 
deeds. His speeches were generally marked by a simplicity 
approaching to bluntness, and by a truly categorical decision. 
Addressing the grand council, he touched briefly upon the 
perils and hardships he had sustained in escaping from his 
crafty foes. He next reproached the council for wasting, in 
idle debate and party feuds, that time which should have been 
devoted to their country. He was particularly indignant at 
those brawlers, who, conscious of individual security, had dis- 
graced the councils of the province by impotent hectorings and 
scurrilous invectives, against a noble and powerful enemy — 
those cowardly curs, who were incessant in their barkings and 
yelpings at the lion, while distant or asleep, but the moment he 
approached, were the first to skulk away. He now called on 
those who had been so vaHant in their threats against Great 
Britain, to stand forth, and support their vauntings by their 
actions— for it was deeds, not words, that bespoke the spirit of 
a nation. He proceeded to recall the golden days of former 
prosperity, which were only to be regained by manfully with- 
standing their enemies; for the peace, he observed, which is 
effected by force of arms, is always more sure and durable 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 287 

than that which is patched up by temporary accommodations. 
He endeavoured, moreover, to arouse their martial fire, by re- 
minding them of the time when, before the frowning walls of 
Fort Christina, he had led them on to victory. He strove like- 
wise to awaken their confidence, by assuring them of the pro- 
tecticn of St. Nicholas, who had hitherto maintained them in 
safety, amid all the savages of the wilderness, the witches and 
squatters of the east, and the giants of Merry-land. Finally, 
he informed them of the insolent summons he had received to 
surrender, but concluded by swearing to defend the province 
as long as Heaven was on his side, and he had a wooden leg to 
stand upon— which noble sentence he emphasized by a tremen- 
dous thwack with the broadside of his sword upon the table, 
that totally electrified his auditors. 

The privy counsellors, who had long been accustomed to the 
governor's way, and in fact had been brought into as perfect 
discipline as were ever the soldiers of the great Frederick, saw 
that there was no use in saying a word— so lighted their pipes 
and smoked away in silence like fat and discreet counsellors. 
But the burgomasters, being less under the governor's control, 
considering themselves as representatives of the sovereign 
people, and being moreover inflamed with considerable import- 
ance and self-sufficiency, which they had acquired at those 
notable schools of wisdom and morality, the popular meetings, 
were not so easily satisfied. Mustering up fresh spirit, when 
they found there was some chance of escaping from then* 
present jeopardy without the disagreeable alternative of fight- 
ing, they requested a copy of the summons to surrender, 
that they might show it to a general meeting of the people. 

So insolent and mutinous a request would have been enough 
to have roused the gorge of the tranquil' Van Twiller himself— 
what, then, must have been its effect upon the great Stuy- 
vesant, who was not only a Dutchman, a governor, and a 
valiant wooden-legged soldier to boot, but withal a man of the 
most stomachful and gunpowder disposition? He burst forth 
into a blaze of noble indignation, — swore not a mother's son of 
them should see a syllable of it— that they deserved, every one 
of them, to be hanged, drawn and quartered, for traitorously 
daring to question the infallibility of government— that as to 
their advice or concurrence, he did not care a whiff of tobacco 
for either— that he had long been harassed and thwarted by 
their cowardly counsels ; but that they might thenceforth go 
home, and go to bed like old women ; for he was determined to 



288 ^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 

defend the colony himself, without the assistance of them or 
their adherents. So saying, he tucked his sword under his 
arm, cocked his hat upon his head, and girding up his loins, 
stumped indignantly out of the council chamber — every body 
making room for him as he passed. 

No sooner had he gone, than the busy burgomasters called 
a public meeting in front of the Stadt-house, where they 
appointed as chairman one Dofue Roerback, a mighty ginger- 
bread-baker in the land and formerly of the cabinet of WilUam 
the Testy. He was looked up to with great reverence by the 
populace, who considered him a man of dark knowledge, seeing 
he was the first that imprinted new-year cakes with the mys- 
terious hieroglyphics of the Cock and Breeches, and such hke 
magical devices. 

This great burgomaster, who still chewed the cud of ill-will 
against the vahant Stuy vesant, in consequence of having been 
ignominiously kicked out of his cabinet at the time of his 
taking the reins of govemm.ent — addressed the greasy multi- 
tude in what is called a patriotic speech, in which he informed 
them of the courteous summons to surrender — of the gover- 
nor's refusal to comply therewith — of his denying the public 
a sight of the summons, which, he had no doubt, contained 
conditions highly to the honour and advantage of the pro- 
vince. 

He then proceeded to speak of his excellency in high-sound- 
ing terms, suitable to the dignity and grandeur of his station, 
comparing him to Nero, Caligula, and those other gi^eat men of 
yore, who are generally quoted by popular orators on similar 
occasions ; assuring the people that the history of the world 
did not contain a despotic outrage to equal the present for 
atrocity, cruelty, tyranny, and bloodthirstiness — that it would 
be recorded in letters of fire, on the blood-stained tablet of 
history ! that ages would roll back with sudden horror when 
they came to view it I that the womb of time — (by the way, 
your orators and writers take strange liberties with the womb 
of time, though some would fain have us believe that time io 
an old gentleman)— that the womb of time, pregnant as it was 
with direful horrors, would never produce a parallel enormity ! 
— With a variety of other heart-rending, soul-stirring tropes 
and figiu^es, which I cannot enumerate — neither, indeed, need 
I, for they were exactly the same that are used in all popular 
harangues and patriotic orations at the present day, and may 
be classed in rhetoric under the general title of Rigmarole 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. ^89 

The speech of this inspired burgomaster being finished, the 
meeting fell into a kind of popular fermentation, which pro- 
duced not only a string of right wise resolutions, but likewise 
a most resolute memorial, addressed to the governor, remon- 
strating at his conduct— which was no sooner handed to him, 
than he handed it into the fire ; and thus deprived posterity of 
an invaluable document, that might have served as a pre- 
jedent to the enhghtened cobblers and tailors of the present 
day, in their sage intermeddlings with pohtics. 



CHAPTEE Vn. 



CONTAINING A DOLEFUL DISASTER OF ANTONY THE TRUMPETER 
—AND HOW PETER STUYVESANT, LIKE A SECOND CROMWELL, 
SUDDENLY DISSOLVED A RUMP PARLIA]VIENT. 

Now did the high-minded Pieter de Groodt shower down a 
pannier-load of benedictions upon his burgomasters, for a set 
of self-willed, obstinate, headstrong varlets. who would neither 
be convinced nor persuaded; and determined thenceforth to 
have nothing more to do with them, but to consult merely the 
opinion of his privy counsellors, which he knew from expe- 
rience to be the best in the world — inasmuch as it never 
differed from his own. Nor did he omit, now that his hand 
was in, to bestow some thousand left-handed comphments 
upon the sovereign people ; whom he railed at for a herd of 
poltroons, who had no rehsh for the glorious hardships and 
illustrious misadventures of battle — ^but would rather stay at 
home, and eat and sleep in ignoble ease, than gain immortahty 
and a broken head by valiantly fighting in a ditch. 

Resolutely bent, however, upon defending his beloved city, 
in despite even of itself, he called unto him liis trusty Yan 
Corlear, who was his right-hand man in all times of emer- 
gency. Him did he adjure to take his war-denouncing 
trumpet, and mounting his horse, to beat up the country, 
night and day. Sounding the alarm along the pastoral bor- 
ders of the Bronx — starting the wild solitudes of Croton — 
arousing the rugged yeomanry of Weehawk and Hoboeken — 
the mighty men of battle of Tappan Bay * — and the brave boys 

* A corruptfon of Top-paun ; so called from a tribe of Indians which boasted a 
hiuiidred and fifty fighting men. See Ogilby's History, 



_j)90 ^ HISTORY OP NEW-TORK 

of Tarry Town and Sleepy Hollow — ^together with all the other 
warriors of the country round about ; charging them one and 
all to sling their powder-horns, shoulder their fowling-pieces, 
and march merrily down to the Manhattoes. 

Now there was nothing in all the world, the divuie sex ex- 
cepted, that Antony Van Corlear loved better than errands of 
this kind. So, just stopping to take a lusty dinner, and brac- 
ing to his side his junk bottle, well charged with heart-inspir- 
ing Hollands, he issued jollily from the city gate, that looked 
out upon what is at present called Broadway; sounding as 
usual a farewell strain, that rung in sprightly echoes through 
the winding streets of Ne w- Amsterdam. —Alas ! never more 
were they to be gladdened by the melody of their favourite 
trumpeter ! 

It was a dark and stormy night, when the good Antony ar- 
rived at the famous creek (sagely denominated Haerlem river) 
which separates the island of Manna-hata from the main land. 
The wind was high, the elements were in an uproar, a-nd no 
Charon could be fomid to ferry the adventurous sounder of 
brass across the water. For a short time he vapoured like an 
impatient ghost upon the brink, and then, bethinking himself 
of the urgency of his errand, took a hearty embrace of his 
stone bottle, swore mosfc valorously that he would swim across, 
en spijt den Duyvel, (in spite of the devil!) and daringly 
plunged into the stream, ^uckless Antony! scarce had he 
buffeted half-way over, when he was observed to struggle vio- 
lently, as if battling with the spirit of the waters — instinctively 
he put his trumpet to his mouth, and giving a vehement blast 
sunk for ever to the bottom ! 

The potent clangour of his trumpet, like the ivory horn of 
the renoAvned Paladin Orlando, when expiring on the glorious 
field of Eoncesvalles, rung far and wide through the coimtry, 
alarming the neighbours round, who hurried in amazement to 
the spot. Here an old Dutch burgher, famed for his veracity, 
and who had been a witness of the fact, related to them the 
melancholy affair; with the fearful addition (to which I am 
slow of giving belief) that he saw the duyvel, in the shape of a 
huge moss-bonker, seize the sturdy Antony by the leg, and 
drag him beneath the waves. Certain it is, the place, with the 
adjoining promontory, which projects into the Hudson, has 
been called Spijt den duyvel, or Spiking Devil, ever since ;— the 
restles?. ghost of the unfortunate Antony still haunts the sur- 
rounding solitudes, and his trumpet has often been heard by 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. . 291 

the neighbours, of a stormy night, mingling with the howhng 
of the blast. Nobody ever attempts to swim over the creek, 
after dark ; on the contrary, a bridge has been built, to guard 
against such melancholy accidents in future — and as to moss- 
bonkers, they are held in such abhorrence, that no true Dutch- 
man will admit them to his table, who loves good fish and hates 
the devil. 

Such was the end of Antony Van Corlear— a man deserving 
of a better fate. He lived roundly and soundly, hke a true and 
jolly bachelor, until the day of his death ; but though he was 
never married, yet did he leave behind some two or three 
dozen children, in different parts of the country— fine, chubby, 
brawling, flatulent httle urchins, from whom, if legends speak 
true, (and they are not apt to lie,) did descend the innumerable 
race of editors who people and defend this country, and who 
are bountifully paid by the people for keeping up a constant 
alarm — and making them miserable. Would that they in- 
herited the worth, as they do the wind, of their renowned pro- 
genitor ! 

The tidings of this lamentable catastrophe imparted a severer 
pang to the bosom of Peter Stuyvesant than did even the inva- 
sion of his beloved Amsterdam. It came ruthlessly home to 
those sweet affections that grow close around the heart, and 
are nourished by its warmest current. As some lorn pilgrim, 
while the tempest whistles through his locks, and dreary night 
is gathering around, sees stretched, cold and lifeless, his faith- 
ful dog— the sole companion of his journeying, who had shared 
his solitary meal, and so often licked his hand in humble grati- 
tude — so did the generous-hearted hero of the Manhattoes con- 
template the untimely end of his faithful Antony. He had 
been the humble attendant of his footsteps — he had cheered 
him in many a heavy hour by his honest gayety, and had fol- 
lowed him in loyalty and affection through many a scene of 
direful peril and mishap ; he was gone for ever — and that, too, 
at a moment when every mongrel cur seemed skulking from 
his side. This — Peter Stuyvesant — this was the moment to try 
thy fortitude ; and this was the moment when thou didst in- 
deed shine forth— Peter the Headstrong ! 

The glare of day had long dispelled the horrors of the last 
sxormy night ; still all was dull and gloomy. The late jovial 
i. polio hid his face behind lugubrious clouds, peeping out now 
and then, for an instant, as if anxious, yet fearful, to see what 
was going rsn in his favourite city. This was the eventful 



292 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

morning when the great Peter was to give his reply to the 
summons of the invaders. Already was he closeted with his 
privy council, sitting in grim state, brooding over the fate ot 
his favourite trumpeter, and anon boiling with indignation as 
the insolence of his recreant burgomasters flashed upon his 
mind. While in this state of irritation, a courier arrived in 
all haste from Winthrop, the subtle governor of Connecticut, 
counselHng him in the most affectionate and disinterested 
manner to surrender the province, and magnifying the dan- 
gers and calamities to which a refusal would subject him. 
What a moment was this to intrude officious advice upon 
a man who never took advice in his whole life!— The fiery 
old governor strode up and down the chamber, with a vehe- 
mence that made the bosoms of his counsellors to quake with 
awe— railing at his unlucky fate, that thus made him the con- 
stant butt of factious subjects and Jesuitical advisers. 

Just at this ill-chosen juncture, the officious burgomasters, 
who were now completely on the watch, and had heard of the 
arrival of mysterious despatches, came marching in a resolute 
body into the room, with a legion of schepens and toad-eaters 
at their heels, and abruptly demanded a perusal of the letter. 
Thus to be broken in upon by what he esteemed a "rascal rab- 
ble," and that, too, at the very moment he was grinding under 
an irritation from abroad, was too much for the spleen of the 
choleric Peter. He tore the letter in a thousand pieces *— threw 
it in the face of the nearest burgomaster — broke his pipe over 
the head of the next — hurled his spitting-box at an unlucky 
schepen, who was just making a masterly retreat out at the 
door, and finally prorogued the whole meeting sine die, by 
kicking them down-stairs with his wooden leg. 

As soon as the burgomasters could recover from the con- 
fusion into which their sudden exit had thrown them, and had 
taken a little time to breathe, they protested against the con- 
duct of the governor, which they did not hesitate to pronounce 
tyrannical, unconstitutional,- highly indecent, and somewhat 
disrespectful. They then called a public meeting, where they 
read the protest, and addressing the assembly in a set speech, 
related at full length, and with appropriate colouring and ex- 
aggeration, the despotic and vindictive deportment of the 
governor; declaring that, for their own parts, they did not 
value a straw the being kicked, cuffed, and mauled by the 

* Smith's History of New York. 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 298 

timber toe of his excellency, but they felt for the dignity of the 
sovereign people, thus rudely insulted by the outrage com- 
mitted on the seat of honour of their representatives. The 
latter part of the harangue had a violent effect upon the sensi- 
bility of the people, as it came home at once to that delicacy 
of feeling and jealous pride of character, vested in all true 
mobs ; who, though they may bear injuries without a murmur, 
yet are marvellously jealous of their sovereign dignity— and 
there is no knowing to what act of resentment they might have 
been provoked against the redoubtable Peter, had not the 
greasy rogues been somewhat more afraid of their sturdy old 
governor, than they were of St. Nicholas, the Enghsh— or the 
D 1 himself. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



HOW PETER STUYVESANT DEFENDED THE CITY OF NEW AMSTER- 
DAM, FOR SEVERAL DAYS, BY DINT OP THE STRENGTH OF HIS 
HEAD. 

There is something exceedingly sublime and melancholy in 
the spectacle which the present crisis of our history presents. 
An illustrious and venerable little city — the metropohs of an 
immense extent of uninhabited country — garrisoned by a 
doughty host of orators, chairmen, committee-men, burgo- 
masters, schepens, and old women — governed by a determined 
and strong-headed warrior, and fortified by mud batteries, 
palisadoes, and resolutions— blockaded by sea, beleaguered by 
land, and threatened with direful desolation from without; 
while its very vitals are torn with internal faction and com- 
motion ! Never did historic pen record a page of more compli- 
cated distress, unless it be the strife that distracted the 
Israelites during the siege of Jerusalem — where discordant 
parties were cutting each other's throats, at the moment when 
the victorious legions of Titus had toppled down their bul- 
warks, and were carrying fire and sword into the very sanctum 
sanctorum of the temple. 

Governor Stuyvesant, having triumphantly, as has been 
recorded, put his grand council to the rout, and thus dehvered 
himself from a multitude of impertinent advisers, despatched 
a categorical reply to the commanders of the invading squad- 



294 -4 HISTORY OF NEW-TOUK. 

ron; wherein he asserted the right and title of their High 
Mightinesses, the Lord States General to the province of New^ 
Netherlands, and, trusting in the righteousness of his cause, 
set the whole British nation at defiance ! My anxiety to ex^ 
tricate my readers and myself from these disastrous scenes, 
prevents me from giving the whole of this gallant letter, which 
ccncluded in these manly and affectionate terms : 

" As touching the threats in your conclusion, we have noth- 
ing to answer, only that we fear nothing but what God (who ia 
as just as merciful) shall lay upon us ; all things being in His 
gracious disposal, and we may as well be preserved by him 
with small forces, as by a great army ; which makes us to wish 
you all happiness and prosperity, and recoromend you to his 
protection.— My lords, your thrice humble and affectionate 
servant and friend, P. Stuyvesant." 

Thus having resolutely thrown his gauntlet, the brave Peter 
stuck a pair of horse-pistols in his belt, girded an immense 
powder-horn on his side — thrust a sound leg into a Hessian 
boot, and clapping his fierce little war hat on the top of his 
head — paraded up and down in front of his house, determined 
to defend his beloved city to the last. 

While all these woful struggles and dissensions were prevail- 
ing in the unhappy city of New-Amsterdam, and while its 
worthy, but ill-starred governor was framing the above-quoted 
letter, the English commanders did not remain idle. They 
had agents secretly employed to foment the fears and clamours 
of the populace; and moreover circulated far and wide, 
through the adjacent country, a proclamation, repeating the 
terms they had already held out in their summons to sur- 
render, and begviiling the simple Nederlanders with the most 
crafty and conciliating professions. They promised that every 
man who voluntarily submitted to the authority of his British 
Majesty, should retain peaceable possession of his house, his 
vrouw, and his cabbage-garden. That he should be suffered to 
smoke his pipe, speak Dutch, wear as many breeches as he 
pleased, and import bricks, tiles, and stone jugs from Holland, 
instead of manufacturing them on the spot. That he should 
on no account be compelled to learn the English language, or 
keep accounts in any other way than by casting them upon his 
fingers, and chalking them down upon the crown of his hat ; 
as is still observed among the Dutch yeomanry at the present 
day. That every man should be allowed quietly to inherit his 



A HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 29,5 

father's hat, coat, shoe-buckles, pipe, and every other personal 
appendage, and that no man should be obliged to conform to 
any improvements, inventions, or any other mo^^'em innova- 
tions; but, on the contrary, should be permitted to build his 
house, follow his trade, manage his farm, rear his hogs, and 
educate his children, precisely as his ancestors did before him 
since time mimemorial. Finally, that he should have all the 
benefits of free trade, and should not be required to acknow- 
ledge any other saint in the calendar than St. Nicholas, who 
should thenceforward, as before, be considered the tutelar saint 
of the city. 

These terms, as may be supposed, appeared very satisfactory 
to the people, who had a great disposition to enjoy their propr 
erty unmolested, and a most singular aversion to engage in a 
contest where they could gain little more than honour and 
broken heads— the first of which they held in philosophic 
indifference, the latter in utter detestation. By these insidious 
means, therefore, did the English succeed in alienating the 
confidence and affections of the populace from their gallant 
old governor, whom they considered as obstinately bent upon 
running them into hideous misadventures ; and did not hesi- 
tate to speak their minds freely, and abuse him most heartUy— 
behind his back. 

Like as a mighty grampus, who, though assailed and 
buffeted by roaring waves and brawling surges, still keeps on 
an undeviating course ; and though overwhelmed by boisterous 
bDlows, still emerges from the troubled deep, spouting and 
blowing with tenfold violence — so did the inflexible Peter 
pursue, unwavering, his determined career, and rise, con- 
temptuous, above the clamours of the rabble. 

But when the British warriors found, by the tenor of his 
reply, that he set their power at defiance, they forthwith 
despatched recruiting oflScers to Jamaica, and Jericho, and 
Nineveh, and Quag, and Patchog, and all those towns on Long 
Island which had been subdued of yore by the immortal 
Stoff el BrinkerhofP , stirring up the valiant progeny of Preserved 
Fish, and Determined Cock, and those other iQustrious squat- 
ters, to assail the city of New- Amsterdam by land. In the 
meanwhile, the hostile ships made awful preparation to com- 
mence an assault by water. 

The streets of New-Amsterdam now presented a scene of 
wild dismay and consternation. In vain did the gallant Stuy- 
vesant order the citizens to arm, and assemble in the public 



296 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

square or market-place. The whole party of Short Pipes in the 
course of a single night had changed into arrant old women— 
a metamorphosis only to he paralleled hy the prodigies re- 
corded by Livy as having happened at Eome on the approach 
of Hannibal, when statues sweated in pure affright, goats 
were converted into sheep, and cocks turning into hens ran 
cackling about the streets. 

The harassed Peter, thus menaced from without, and tor- 
mented from within — baited by the burgomasters, and hooted 
at by the rabble, chafed and growled and raged like a furious 
bear, tied to a stake and worried by a legion of scoundrel curs. 
Finding, however, that all further attempts to defend the city 
were vain, and hearing that an irruption of borderers and 
mosstroopers was ready to deluge him from the east, he was 
at length compelled, in spite of his proud heart, which swelled 
in his throat until it had nearly choked him, to consent to a 
treaty of surrender. 

Words canno£ express the transports of the people, on re- 
ceiving this agreeable intelligence; had they obtained a con- 
quest over their enemies, they could not have indulged greater 
delight. The streets resounded with their congratulations — 
they extolled their governor, as the father and deliverer of his 
country — they crowded to his house to testify their gratitude, 
and were ten times more noisy in their plaudits, than when he 
returned, with victory perched upon his beaver, from the 
glorious capture of Fort Christina. But the indignant Peter 
shut his doors and windows, and took refuge in the innermost 
recesses of his mansion, that he might not hear the ignoble re- 
joicings of the rabble. 

In consequence of this consent of the governor, a parley was 
demanded of the besieging forces to treat of the terms of 
surrender. Accordingly, a deputation of six commissioners 
was appointed on both sides ; and on the 27th August, 1664, a 
capitulation higlily favourable to the province, and honour- 
able to Peter Stuyvesant, was agreed to by the enemy, who 
had conceived a high opinion of the valour of the Manhattoes, 
and the magnanimity and unbounded discretion of their gov- 
ernor. 

One thing alone remained, which was, that the articles of 
surrender should be ratified, and signed by the governor. 
When the commissioners respectfully waited upon 'him for 
this purpose, they were received by the hardy old warrior 
with the most grim and bitter courtesy. His warhke accoutre- 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TOBK. 297 

ments were laid aside — an old India night-gown was wrapped 
about his rugged limbs, a red night-cap overshadowed his 
frowning brow, and an iron gray bread, of three days' growth, 
gave additional grimness to his visage. Thrice did he seize a 
httle worn-out stump of a pen, and essay to sign the loath- 
some paper — thrice did he clinch his teeth, and make a most 
horrible countenance, as though a pestiferous dose of rhubarb, 
senna, and ipecacuanha, had been offered to his lips ; at length, 
daslung it from him, he seized his brass-hilted sword, and 
jerking it from the scabbard, swore by St. Nicholas, he'd 
sooner die than yield to any power under heaven. 

In vain was every attempt to shake this sturdy resolution — 
menaces, remonstrances, revilings, were exhausted to no pur- 
pose — for tv70 whole days was the house of the valiant Peter 
besieged by the clamorous rabble, and for two whole days did 
he betake himself to his arms, and persist in a magnanimous 
refusal to ratify the capitulation. 

At length the populace, finding that boisterous measures did 
but incense more determined opposition, bethought themselves 
of an humble expedient, by which, happily, the governor's ire 
might be soothed, and his resolution undermined. And now a 
solemn and mournful procession, headed by the burgomasters 
and schepens, and followed by the populace, moves slowly to 
the governor's dwelling, bearing the capitulation. Here they 
found the stout old hero, drawn up like a giant in his castle, 
the doors strongly barricadoed, and himself in full regimentals, 
with his cocked hat on his head, firmly posted with a blunder- 
buss at the garret-window. 

There was something in tliis formidable position that struck 
even the ignoble vulgar with awe and admiration. The braw- 
ling multitude could not but reflect with self-abasement upon 
their own pusillanimous conduct, when they beheld their 
hardy but deserted old governor, thus faithful to his post, hke 
a forlorn hope, and fully prepared to defend his ungrateful 
city to the last. These compunctions, however, were soon over- 
whelmed by the recurring tide of public apprehension. The 
populace arranged themselves before the house, taking off 
their hats with most respectful humility. — Burgomaster Roer- 
back, who was of that popular class of orators described by 
Sallust as being "talkative rather than eloquent," stepped 
forth and addressed the governor in a speech of three hours' 
length; detailing in the most pathetic terms the calamitous 
situation of the province, and urging liim in a constant repe' 



298 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

tition of the same arguments and words to sign the capitula- 
tion. 

The mighty Peter eyed him from his httle garret- window in 
grim silence — now and then his eye would glance over the sur- 
rounding rabble, and an indignant grin, like that of an angry 
mastiff, would mark his iron visage. But though he was a man 
of most undaunted mettle— though he had a heart as big as 
an ox, and a head that would have set adamant to scorn — yet 
after all he was a mere mortal : — Avearied out by these repeated 
oppositions and this eternal haranguing, and perceiving that'^ 
unless he comphed, the inhabitants would follow their own in- 
chnations, or rather their fears, without waiting for his con- 
sent, he testily ordered them to hand up the paper. It was 
accordingly hoisted to hira on the end of a pole, and having 
scrawled his name at the bottom of it, he anathematized 
them all for a set of cowardly, mutinous, degenerate poltroons 
— threw the capitulation at their heads, slammed down the 
window, and was heard stumping down stairs with the most 
vehement indignation. The rabble incontinently took to their 
heels ; even the burgomasters were not slow in evacuating the 
premises, fearing lest the sturdy Peter might issue from his 
den, and greet them with some imi welcome testimonial of his 
displeasure. 

Within three hours after the surrender, a legion of British 
beef -fed warriors poured into New- Amsterdam, taking posses- 
sion of the fort and batteries. And now might be heard from 
aU quarters the sound of hammers, made by the old Dutch 
burghers, who were busily employed in nailing up their doors 
and windows, to protect their vrouws from these fierce bar- 
barians, whom they contemplated in silent sullenness from the 
garret-windows, as they paraded through the streets. 

Thus did Col. Eichard Nichols, the commander of the British 
forces, enter into quiet possession of the conquered realm, as 
locum tenens for the Duke of York. The victory was at- 
tended with no other outrage than that of changing the name 
of the province and its metropolis, which thenceforth were 
denominated New- York, and so have continued to be called 
unto the present day. The inhabitants, according to treaty, 
were allowed to maintain quiet possession of their property; 
but so inveterately did they retain their abhorrence of the 
British nation, that in a private meeting of the leading citi- 
zens, it was unanimously determined never to ask any of their 
conquerors to dinner. 



A JIISTOBY OF NEWYOUK. 299 



CHAPTER IX. 

CONTAINING THE DIGNIFIED RETIREMENT AND MORTAL SURRENDER 

OF PETER THE HEADSTRONG. 

/ 

Thus, then, have I concluded this great historical enterprise ; 
but before I lay aside my weary pen, there yet remains to be 
performed one pious duty. If, among the variety of readere 
that may peruse this book, there should haply be found any of 
those souls of true nobility, which glow with celestial fire at 
the history of the generous and the brave, they will doubtless 
be anxious to know the fate of the gallant Peter Stuy vesant. 
To gratify one such sterling heart of gold, I would go more 
lengths than to instruct the cold-blooded curiosity of a whole 
fraternity of philosophers. 

No sooner had that high-mettled cavalier signed the article:; 
of capitulation, than, determined not to witness the humilia- 
tion of his favourite city, he turned his back on its walls, and 
made a growhng retreat to his Bouivery, or country-seat, which 
was situated about two miles olf ; where he passed the re- 
mainder of his days in patriarchal retirement. There he 
enjoyed that tranquillity of mind which he had never known 
amid the distracting cares of government; and tasted the 
sweets of absolute and uncontrolled authority, which his fac- 
tious subjects had so often dashed with the bitterness of 
opposition. 

No persuasions could ever induce him to revisit the city — on 
the contrary, he would always have his great arm-chair i3laced 
with its back to the windows which looked in that direction ; 
until a thick grove of trees, planted by his own hand, grew 
up and formed a screen that effectually excluded it from the 
prospect. He railed continually at the degenerate innovations 
and improvements introduced by the conquerors— forbade a 
word of their detested language to be spoken in his family— a 
prohibition readily obeyed, since none of the household could 
speak anything but Dutch — and even ordered a fine avenue to 
be cut down in front of his house, because it consisted of Eng- 
Ksh cherry-trees. 

The same incessant vigilance that blazed forth when he had 
a vast province under his care now showed itself with equal 
vigour, though in narrower limits. He patrolled with unceas- 



300 A HISTOET OF NEW-YORK. 

ing watchfulness around the boundaries of his little territory ; 
repelled every encroachment with intrepid promptness; pun- 
ished every vagrant depredation upon his orchard or his farm- 
yard with inflexible severity — and conducted every stray hog 
or cow in triumph to the pound. But to the indigent neigh- 
bour, the friendless stranger, or the weary wanderer, his 
spacious doors were ever open, and his capacious fire-place, 
that emblem of his own warm and generous heart, had always 
a corner to receive and cherish them. There was an exception 
to this, I must confess, in case the ill-starred apphcant was an 
Englishman or a Yankee, to whom, though he might extend 
the hand of assistance, he never could be brought to yield the 
rites of hospitahty. Nay, if peradventure some straggling 
merchant of the east should stop at his door, with his cart-load 
of tin- ware or wooden bowls, the fiery Peter would issue forth 
like a giant from his castle, and make such a furious clatter- 
ing among his pots and kettles that the vender of ^^ notions'^ 
was fain to betake himself to instant flight. 

His handsome suit of regimentals, worn threadbare by the 
brush, was carefully hung up in the state bed-chamber, and 
regularly aired on the first fair day of every month — and his 
cocked hat and trusty sword were suspended in grim repose 
over the parlour mantel-piece, forming supporters to a full- 
length portrait of the renowned Admiral Van Tromp. In his 
domestic empire he maintained strict discipline, and a well- 
organized, despotic government ; but, though his own will was 
the supreme la\^, yet the good of his subjects was his constant 
object. He watched over, not merely their immediate com- 
forts, but their morals and their ultunate welfare ; for he gave 
them abundance of excellent admonition, nor could any of 
them complain, that, when occasion required, he was by any 
means niggardly in bestowing wholesome correction. 

The good old Dutch festivals, those periodical demonstrations 
of an overflowing heart and a thankful spirit, which are fall- 
ing into sad disuse among my fellow-citizens, were faithfully 
observed in the mansion of Governor Stuyvesant. New-year 
was truly a day of open-handed liberality, of jocund revelry, 
and warm-hearted congratulation — when the bosom seemed 
to swell with genial good-fellowship — and the plenteous table 
was attended with an unceremonious freedom, and honest, 
broad-mouthed merriment, unknown in these days of degen- 
eracy and refinement. Pas and Pinxter were scrupulously 
observed throughout his dominions; nor was the day of St. 



Ii 



A HISTORY OF NEW-TORK. 301 

Nicholas suffered to pass by without making presents, hang- 
ing the stocking in the chimney, and complying with all its 
other ceremonies. 

Once a year, on the first day of April, he used to array him- 
self in full regimentals, being the anniversary of his triumphal 
entry into New- Amsterdam, after the conquest of New-Sweden. 
This was always a kind of saturnalia among the domestics, 
when they considered themselves at liberty, in some measure, 
to say and do what they pleased ; for on this day their master 
was always observed to unbend, and become exceeding pleas- 
ant and jocose, sending the old gray-headed negroes on April 
fool's errands for pigeon's milk ; not one of whom but allowed 
himself to be taken in, and humoured his old master's jokes, 
as became a faithful and well-disciplined dependant. Thus 
did he reign, happily and peacefully, on his own land— injur- 
ing no man— envying no man — molested by no outward strifes 
—perplexed by no internal commotions ; and the mighty mon- 
archs of the earth, who were vainly seeking to maintain peace, 
and promote the welfare of mankind, by war and desolation, 
would have done well to have made a voyage to the httle 
island of Manna-hata, and learned a lesson in government 
from the domestic economy of Peter Stuyvesant. 

In process of time, however, the old governor, like all other 
children of mortality, began to exhibit tokens of decay. Like 
an aged oak, which, though it long has braved the fury of the 
elements, and stOl retains its gigantic proportions, yet begms 
to shake and groan with every blast— so was it with the gal- 
lant Peter; for, though he still bore the port and semblance of 
what he was in the days of his hardihood and chivalry, yet 
did age and infirmity begin to sap the vigour of his frame- 
but his heart, that most unconquerable citadel, still triumphed 
imsubdued. With matchless avidity would he listen to every 
article of intelligence concerning the battles between the 
English and Dutch— still would his pulse beat high, whenever 
he heard of the victories of De Euyter— and his countenance 
lower, and his eyebrows knit, when fortune turned in favour 
of the English. At length, as on a certain day he had just 
smoked his fifth pipe, and was napping after dinner in his 
arm-chair, conquering the whole British nation in his dreams, 
he was suddenly aroused by a fearful ringing of bells, rattling 
of drums, and roaring of cannon, that put all his blood in a 
ferment. But when he learnt that these rejoicings were in 
honour of a great victory obtained by the combined Enghsh 



302 ^ HISTORY OF NEW- YORK. 

and French fleets over the brave De Ruyter and the younger 
Van Tromp, it went so much to his heart, that he took to his 
bed, and, in less than three days, was brought to death's door 
by a violent cholera morbus ! But, even in this extremity, he 
still displayed the unconquerable spirit of Peter the Head- 
strong; holding out, to the last gasp, with the most inflexible 
obstinacy, against a whole army of old women, who were 
bent upon driving the enemy out of his bowels, after a true 
Butch mode of defence, by inundating the seat of war with 
catnip and pennyroyal. 

While he thus lay, lingering on the verge of dissolution, 
news was brought him that the brave De Ruyter had suffered 
but little loss— had made good his retreat — and meant once 
more to meet the enemy in battle. The closing eye of the old 
warrior kindled at the words — he partly raised himself in bed 
—a flash of martial fire beamed across his visage— he clenched 
his withered hand, as if he felt within his gripe that sword 
which waved in triumph before the walls of Fort Christina, 
and, giving a grim smile of exultation, sunk back upon his 
pillow and expired. 

Thus died Peter Stuyvesant, a valiant soldier — a loyal sub- 
ject — an upright governor, and an honest Dutchman — who 
wanted only a few empires to desolate to have been immortal- 
ized as a hero. 

His funeral obsequies were celebrated with the utmost gran- 
deur and solemnity. The town was perfectly emptied of its 
inhabitants, who crowded in throngs to pay the last sad hon- 
ours to their good old governor. All his sterling quahties 
rushed in full tide upon their recollections, while the memory 
of his foibles and his faults had expired with him. The ancient 
burghers contended who should have the privilege of bearing 
the pall ; the populace strove who should walk nearest to the 
bier — and the melancholy procession was closed by a number 
of gray -headed negroes, who had wintered and suramered in 
, the household of their departed master, for the greater part of 
a century. 

With sad and gloomy countenances the multitude gathered 
around the grave. They dwelt with mournful hearts on the 
sturdy virtues, the signal services, and the gallant exploits of 
the brave old worthy. They recalled, with secret upbraidings, 
their own factious opposition to his government — and many an 
ancient burgher, whose phlegmatic features had never been 
known to relax, nor his eyes to moisten, wa« now observed to 



A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 303 

puff a pensive pipe, and the big drop to steal down his cheek 
— while he muttered, with affectionate accent, and melancholy 
shake of the head — "Well den! — Hardkoppig Peter ben gone 
at last!" 

His remains were deposited in the family vault, under a chapel, 
which he had piously erected on his estate, and dedicated to 
St. Nicholas — and which stood on the identical spot at present 
occupied by St. Mark's Church, where his tomb-stone is still to 
be seen. His estate, or Bouwery, as it was called, has ever con- 
tinued in the possession of his descendants, who, by the uni- 
form integrity of their conduct and their strict adherence to 
the customs and manners that prevailed in the '^ good old 
times, " have proved themselves worthy of their illustrious an- 
cestor. Many a time and oft has the farm been haunted, at 
night, by enterprising money-diggers, in quest of pots of gold, 
said to have been buried by the old governor — though I cannot 
learn that any of them have ever been enriched by their re- 
searches : and who is there, among my native-born fellow-citi- 
zens, that does not remember, when, in the mischievous days of 
his boyhood, he conceived, it a great exploit to rob "Stuyve- 
sant's orchard " on a holy day afternoon? 

At this strong-hold of the family may still be seen certain 
memorials of the immortal Peter. His full-length portrait 
frowns in martial terrors from the parlour wall — his cocked 
hat and sword still hang up in the best bed-room — his brim- 
stone-coloured breeches were for a long while suspended in the 
hall, until some years since they occasioned a dispute between 
a new married couple -and his silver-mounted wooden leg is 
still treasured up in the store-room as an invaluable rehc. 



CHAPTER X. 

THE author's reflections UPON WHAT HAS BEEN SAID. 

Among the numerous events, which are each in their turn 
the most direful and melancholy of all possible occurrences, 
in your interesting and authentic history, there is none that 
occasion such deep and heart-rending grief as the dechne and 
fall of your renowned and mighty empires. Where is the 
reader who can contemplate, without emotion, the disastrous 



804 ^ UmTOBY OF NEW-YORK. 

events by which the great dynasties of the world have been 
extinguished? While wandering, in imagination, among the 
gigantic ruuis of states and empires, and marking the tremen- 
dous convulsions that wrought their overthrow, the bosom of 
the melancholy inquirer swells with sympathy commensurate 
to the surrounding desolation. Kingdoms, principalities, and 
powers, have each had their rise, their progress, and their 
downfall — each in its turn has swayed a potent sceptre — each 
has returned to its primeval nothingness. And thus did it fare 
with the empire of theu^ High Mightinesses, at the Manhattoes, 
under the peaceful reign of Walter the Doubter — the fretful 
reign of WiUiam the Testy — and the chivalric reign of Peter 
the Headstrong. 

Its history is fruitful instruction, and worthy of bemg pon- 
dered over attentively; for it is by thus raking among the 
ashes of departed greatness, that the sparks of true knowledge 
are found, and the lamp of wisdom illumined. Let, then, the 
reign of Walter the Doubter warn against yielding to that 
sleek, contented security, that overweening fondness for com- 
fort and repose, that are produced by a state of prosperity and 
peace. These tend to unnerve a nation ; to destroy its pride of 
character; to render it patient of insult, deaf to the calls of 
honour and of justice ; and cause it to cling to peace, like the 
sluggard to Ms pillow, at the expense of every valuable duty 
and consideration. Such supineness insures the very evil from 
which it shrinks. One right, yielded up, produces the usurpa- 
tion of a second ; one encroachment, passively suffered, makes 
way for another ; and the nation that thus, through a doting 
love of peace, has sacrificed honour and interest, will at length 
have to fight for existence. 

Let the disastrous i^ign of WiUiam the Testy serve as a salu- 
tary warning against that fitful, feverish mode of legislation 
t JLat acts without system ; depends on shifts and projects, and 
trusts to lucky contingencies ; that hesitates, and wavers, and 
at length decides with the rashness of ignorance and imbecil- 
ity ; that stoops for popularity, by courting the prejudices and 
flattering the arrogance, rather than commanding the respect, 
of the rabble ; that seeks safety in a multitude of counsellors, 
and distracts itself by a variety of contradictory schemes and 
opinions; that mistakes procrastination for deliberate wari- 
ness — ^hurry for decision — starveling parsimony for wholesome 
economy — ^bustle for business, and vapouring for valour; that 
IS violent in council, sanguine in expectation, precipitate in 



A HlSTOliY OF NEW-TOUK. 305 

action, and feeble in execution; that undertakes enterprises 
without forethought, enters upon them without preparation, 
conducts them without energy, and ends them in confusion 
and defeat. 

Let the reign of the good Stuyvesant show the effects of vigour 
and decision, even when destitute of cool judgment, and sur- 
rounded by perplexities. Let it show how frankness, probity, 
and high-souled courage will command respect and secure hon- 
our, even where success is unattainable. But, at the same 
time, let it caution against a too ready rehance on the good 
faith of others, and a too honest confidence in the loving pro- 
fessions of powerful neighbours, who are most friendly when 
they most mean to betray. Let it teach a judicious attention 
to the opinions and wishes of the many, who, in times of peril, 
must be soothed and led, or apprehension will overpower the 
deference to authority. Let the empty wordiness of his factious 
subjects; their intemperate harangues; their violent "resolu- 
tions;" their hectorings against an absent enemy, and their 
pusillanimity on his approach, teach us to distrust and despise 
those clamorous patriots whose courage dwells but in the 
tongue. Let them serve as a lesson to repress that insolence of 
speech, destitute of real force, which too often breaks forth in 
popular bodies, and bespeaks the vanity rather than the spirit 
of a nation. Let them caution us against vaunting too much 
of our own power and prowess, and reviling a noble enemy. 
True gallantry of soul would always lead us to treat a foe with 
courtesy and proud punctiho ; a contrary conduct but takes from 
the merit of victory, and renders defeat doubly disgraceful. 

But I cease to dwell on the stores of excellent examples to be 
drawn from the ancient chronicles of the Manhattoes. He who 
reads attentively will discover the threads of gold which run 
throughout the web of history, and are invisible to the dull eye 
of ignorance. But, before I conclude, let me point out a solemn 
warning, furnished in the subtle chain of events by which the 
capture of Fort Casimir has produced the present convulsions 
of our globe. 

Attend, then, gentle reader, to this plain deduction, which, 
if thou art a king, an emperor, or other powerful potentate, I 
advise thee to treasure up in thy heart — though little expecta- 
tion have I that my work will fall into such hands, for well 
I know the care of crafty ministers to keep all grave and edi- 
fying books of the kind out of the way of unhappy monarchs 
--lest perad venture they should read them and learn wisdom. 



306 A HISTORY OF MSW-YORK. 

By the treacherous surprisal of Fort Casimir, then, did the 
crafty Swedes enjoy a transient triumph ; but drew upon their 
heads the vengeance of Peter Stuyvesant, who wrested all 
New-Sweden from their hands. By the conquest of New-Swe- 
den, Peter Stuyvesant aroused the claims of Lord Baltimore ; 
who appealed to the Cabinet of Great Britain ; who subdued 
the whole province of New-Netherlands. By this great achieve- 
ment, the whole extent of North America, from Nova Scotia 
to the Floridas, was rendered one entu'e dependency upon the 
British crown— but mark the consequence :— The hitherto scat- 
tered colonies being thus consohdated, and having no rival 
colonies to check or keep them in awe, waxed great and power- 
ful, and finally becoming too strong for the mother country, 
were enabled to shake off its bonds, and by a glorious revolu- 
tion became an independent empire. But the chain of efforts 
stopped not here; the successful revolution in America pro- 
duced the sanguinary revolution in France, which produced 
the puissant Buonaparte, who produced the French despotism, 
which has thrown the whole world in confusion ! — Thus have 
these great powers been successsivly punished for their ill- 
starred conquests— and thus, as I asserted, have all the pres- 
entconvulsions, revolutions, and disasters that overwhelm 
mankind, originated in the capture of the httle Fort Casimir, 
as recorded in this eventful history. 

And now, worthy reader, ere I take a sad farewell — which, 
alas 1 must be for ever— willingly would I part in cordial fellow- 
ship, and bespeak thy kind-hearted remembrance. That I have 
not written a better history of the days of the patriarchs, is 
not my fault— had any other person written one as good, I 
should not have attempted it at all. That many will hereafter 
spring up and surpass me in excellence, I have very little 
doubt, and still less care ; well knowing, when the great Christo- 
vallo Colon (who is vulgarly called Columbus) had once stood 
his Q^^ upon its end, every one at the table could stand iiis up 
a thousand times more dexterously. Should any reader find 
matter of offence in this history, I should heartily grieve, 
though I would on no account question his penetration by tell- 
ing him he is mistaken— his good nature, by telMng him he is 
captious— or his pure conscience, by telling him he is startled 
at a shadow. Surely if he is so ingenious in finding offence 
where none is intended, it were a thousand pities he should not 
be suffered to enjoy the benefit of his discovery. 

I have too high an opinion of the understanding of my fellow- 



A ] I [STORY OF NEW-YOEK 307 

citizens, to think of yielding them any instruction ; and I covet 
too much their good-will, to forfeit it by giving them good ad- 
vice. I am none of those cynics who despise the world because 
it despises them — on the contrary, though but low in its regard, 
I look up to it with the most perfect good nature, and my only 
sorrow is, that it does not prove itself more worthy of the un- 
bounded love I bear it. 

If, however, in this my historic production— the scanty fruit 
of a long and laborious life— I have failed to gratify the dainty 
palate of the age, I can only lament my misfortune — for it is 
too late in the season for me even to hope to repair it. Already 
has withering age showered his sterile snows upon my brow ; 
in a little while, and this genial warmth, which still lingers 
around my heart, and throbs— worthy reader — throbs kindly 
towards thyself, will be chilled for ever. Haply this frail 
compound of dust, which while alive may have given birth to 
nought but unprofitable weeds, may form an humble sod of the 
valley, from whence may spring many a sweet wild flower, to 
adorn my beloved island of Manna-hata ! 



THE 



ALHAMBRA 



BY 



WASHINGTON IRVlNGc 



CHICAGO, NEW YORK, AND SAN FRANCISCO 

BELFORD, CLARKE & CO., 

Publishers. 



DEDICATION. 



TO DAYID WILKIE, ESQ., R.A. 

My dear Sir:— You may remember that, in the course of tl'ie 
rambles we once took together about some of the old cities of 
Spain, particularly Toledo and Seville, we frequently remarked 
the mixture of the Saracenic with the Gothic, remaining from 
the time of the Moors, and were more than once struck with 
incidents and scenes in the streets, that brought to mind pas- 
sages in the '' Arabian Nights." You then urged me to write 
something illustrative of these peculiarities ; ' ' something in the 
Haroun Alraschid style, " that should have a dash of that Ara- 
bian spice which pervades every thing in Spain. I call this to 
mmd to show you that you are, in some degree, responsible for 
the present work ; in which I have given a few ' ' Arabesque" 
sketches and tales, taken from the life, or founded on local tra- 
ditions, and mostly struck off during a residence in one of the 
most legendary and Morisco-Spanish places of the Peninsula. 

I inscribe this work to you, as a memorial of the pleasant 
scenes we have witnessed together, in that land of adventure, 
and as a testimony of an esteem for your worth, which can 
only be exceeded by admiration of your talents. 

Your friend and fellow traveller, 

The Author. ' 



THE ALHAMBRA. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGK 

Dedication 3 

The Journey , 7 

Government op the Alhambra 20 

Interior of the Alhambra 22 

The Tower op Comares 28 

Reflections on the Moslem Domination in Spain 32 

The Household 35 

The Truant 38 

The Author's Chamber 41 

The Alhambra by Moonlight 45 

Inhabitants of the Alhambra 46 

The Balcony. . 49 

The Adventure of the Mason 54 

A Ramble among the Hills 57 

The Court op Lions 63 

BOABDIL EL ChICO 67 

Momentos of Boabdil 70 

The Tower op Las Infantas 73 

The House op the Weathercock 74 

Legend of the Arabian Astrologer 75 

"TLkgend op the Three Beautiful Princesses 89 

Local Traditions 108 

' Iiegend op the Moor's Legacy 109 

Visitors of the Alhambra 126 

Legend of Prince Ahmed Al Kamel; or, the Pilgrim of Love ISO 

Legend of the Rose of the Alhambra; or, the Page and the Ger-Falcon. 156 

The Veteran 168 

The Governor and the Notary 170 

Governor Manco and the Soldier 175 

Legend op the Two Discreet Statues 189 

Mahamad Aben Alahmar, the Founder op the Alhambra 208 

JusBP Abul Haqias, the Finishkh of the Alhambra. . ^i^ 209 



m 



THE ALHAMBRA. 



A SERIES OF TALES AND SKETCHES OF THE 
MOORS AND SPANIARDS. 



THE JOURNEY. 

In the sprang of 1829, the author of this work, whom curiosity 
had brought into Spain, made a rambling expedition from Se- 
ville to Granada, in company with a friend, a member of the 
Russian embassy at Madrid. Accident had thrown us together 
from distant regions of the globe, and a similarity of taste led 
us to wander together among the romantic mountains of An- 
dalusia. Should these pages meet his eye, wherever thrown 
by the duties of his station, whether mingling in the pageantry 
of courts or meditating on the truer glories of nature, may they 
recaU the scenes of our adventurous companionsliip, and with 
them the remembrance of one, in whom neither time nor dis- 
tance will obhterate the recollection of his gentleness and 
worth. 

And here, before setting forth, let me indulge in a few previ 
ous remarks on Spanish scenery and Spanish travelling. 
Many are apt to picture Spain in their imaginations as a soft 
southern region decked out with all the luxuriant charms of 
voluptuous Italy. On the contrary, though there are excep- 
tions in some of the maritime provinces, yet, for the greater 
part, it is a stern, melancholy country, with rugged mountains 
and long, naked, sweeping plains, destitute of trees, and inva- 
riably silent and lonesome, partaking of the savage and solitary 
character of Africa. What adds to this silence and loneliness, 
is the absence of singing birds, a natural consequence of the 
want of groves and hedges. The vulture and the eagle are seen 
wheeling about the mountain cliffs and soaring over the plains. 



8 THE ALHAMBRA. 

and groups of shy bustards stalk about the heaths, but the 
myriads of smaller birds, which animate the whole faco of 
other countries, are met with in but few provinces of Spain, and 
in them chiefly among the orchards and gardens which sur- 
round the habitations of man. 

In the exterior provinces, the traveller occasionally traverses 
great tracts cultivated with grain as far as the eye can reach, 
waving at times with verdure, at other times naked and sun- 
burnt ; but he looks round in vain for the hand that has tilled 
the soil : at length he perceives some village perched on a steep 
hill, or rugged crag, with mouldering battlements and ruined 
watch-tower ; a strong-hold, in old times, against civil war or 
Moorish inroad ; for the custom among the peasantry of congre- 
gating together for mutual protection, is still kept up in most 
parts of Spain, in consequence of the marauding of roving free- 
booters. 

But though a great part of Spain is deficient in the garniture 
of groves and forests, and the softer charms of ornamental cul- 
tivation, yet its scenery has something of a high and lofty char- 
acter to compensate the want. It partakes something of the 
attributes of its people, and I think that I better understand 
the proud, hardy, frugal and abstemious Spaniard, his manly 
defiance of hardships, and contempt of effeminate indulgences, 
since I have seen the country he inhabits. 

There is something, too, in the sternly simple features of the 
Spanish landscape, that impresses on the soul a feeMng of sub- 
limity. The immense plains of the Castiles and La Mancha, 
extending as far as the eye can reach, derive an interest from 
their very nakedness and immensity, and have something of 
the solemn grandeur of the ocean. In ranging over these 
boundless wastes, the eye catches sight, here and there, of a 
straggling herd of cattle attended by a lonely herdsman, mo- 
tionless as a statue, with his long slender pike tapering up like 
a lance into the air ; or beholds a long train of mules slowly 
moving along the waste hke a train of camels in the desert, or 
a single herdsman, armed with blunderbuss and stiletto, and 
prowling over the plain. Thus, the country, the habits, the 
very looks of the people, have something of the Arabian char- 
acter. The general insecurity of the country is evinced in the 
universal use of weapons. The herdsman in the field, the shep- 
herd in the plain has his musket and his knife. The wealthy 
villager rarely ventures to the market-town without his trabu- 
cho, and, perhaps, a servant on foot with a blunderbuss on 



THE JOURNEY. 9 

his shoulder ; and the most petty journey is undertaken with 
the preparations of a warlike enterprise. 

The dangers of the road produce, also, a mode of travelling, 
resembling, on a diminutive scale, the caravans of the East. 
The arrierors or carriers, congregate in troops, and set off in 
large and well-armed trains on appointed days, while individual 
travellers swell their number and contribute to their strength. 
In this primitive way is the commerce of the country carried 
on. The muleteer is the general medium of traffic, and the 
legitimate wanderer of the land, traversing the Peninsula from 
the Pyrenees and the Asturias, to the Alpuxarras, the Serrania 
de Ronda, and even to the gates of Gibraltar. He hves frugally 
and hardily; his alforjas (or saddle-bags), of coarse cloth, hold 
his scanty stock of provisions ; a leathern bottle hanging at his 
saddle-bow, contains wine or w^ater for a supply across barren 
mountains and thirsty plains ; a mule cloth spread upon the 
ground is his bed at night, and his pack-saddle is his pillow. 
His low but clear-limbed and sinewy form betokens strength ; 
his complexion is dark and sun-burnt; his eye resolute, but 
quiet in its expression, except when kindled by sudden emo- 
tion; his demeanour is frank, manly, and courteous, and he 
never passes you without a gi-ave salutation — " Dios guarda a 
usted !" — ' ' Vay usted con Dios caballero !"— * ' God guard you !" 
— "God be with you! cavaherl" 

As these men have often their whole fortune at stake upon 
the burden of their mules, they have their weapons at hand, 
slung to their saddles, and ready to be snatched down for des- 
perate defence. But their united numbers render them secure 
against petty bands of marauders, and the sohtary bandalero, 
armed to the teeth, and mounted on his Andalusian steed, 
hovers about them, like a pirate about a merchant convoy, 
without daring to make an assault. 

The Spanish muleteer has an inexhaustible stock of songs 
and ballads, with which to beguile his incessant way -faring. 
The airs are rude and simple, consisting of but few inflexions. 
These he chants forth with a loud voice, and long drawling 
cadence, seated sideways on his mule, who seems to listen with 
infinite gravity, and to keep time with his paces, to the tune. 
The couplets thus chanted are often old traditional romances 
about the Moors ; or some legend of a saint ; or some love ditty ; 
or, what is still more frequent, some ballad about a bold contra- 
bandista, or hardy bandalero ; for the smuggler and the robber 
are poetical heroes among the common people of Spain. Often 



10 THE ALRAMBRA. 

the song of the muleteer is composed at the instant, and relates 
to some local scene, or some incident of the journey. This tal- 
ent of singing and improvising is frequent in Spain, and is said 
to have been inherited from the Moors. There is something 
wildly pleasing in listening to these ditties among the rude and 
lonely scenes they illustrate, accompanied as they are, by the 
occasional jingle of the mule-bell. 

It has a most picturesque effect, also, to meet a train of mule- 
teers in some momitain pass. First you hear the bells of the 
leading mules, breaking with their simple melody the stillness 
of the* airy height; or, perhaps, the voice of the muleteer ad- 
monishing some tardy or wandering animal, or chanting, at 
fche full stretch of his lungs, some traditionary ballad. At 
length you see the mules slowly winding along the cragged 
defile, sometimes descending precipitous chffs, so as to present 
themselves in full relief against the sky, sometimes toiling up 
the deep arid chasms below you. As they approach, you descry 
their gay decorations of worsted tufts, tassels, and saddle- 
cloths ; while, as they pass by, the ever ready trabucho, slung 
behind their packs and saddles, gives a hint of the insecurity 
of the road. 

The ancient kingdom of Granada, into which we are about 
to penetrate, is one of the most mountainous regions of Spain. 
Vast sierras or chains of mountains, destitute of shrub or tree, 
and mottled with variegated marbles and granites, elevate their 
sun-burnt summits against a deep blue sky, yet in their rugged 
bosoms lie engulfed the most verdant and fertile valley, where 
the desert and the garden strive for mastery, and the very rock, 
as it were, compelled to yield the fig, the orange, and the cit- 
ron, and to blossom with the myrtle and the rose. 

In the wild passes of these mountains, the sight of waUed 
towns and villages built like eagles' nests among the cliffs, and 
surrounded by Moorish battlements, or of ruined watch-towers 
perched on lofty peaks, carry the mind back to the chivalrous 
days of Christian and Moslem warfare, and to the romantic 
struggle for the conquest of Granada. In traversing their lofty 
Sierras, the traveller is often obliged to alight and lead his horse 
up and down the steep and jagged ascents and descents, resem- 
bling the broken steps of a staircase. Sometimes the road 
winds along dizzy precipices, without parapet to guard him 
from the gTilfs below, and then will plunge down steep and 
dark and dangerous dechvities. Sometimes it struggles through 
rugged barrancos, or ravines, worn by Avater torrents; the ob- 



THE JOURNEY. H 

scure paths of the Contrabandista, while ever and anon, the 
ominous cross, the memento of robbery and murder, erected 
on a mound of stones at some lonely part of the road, admon- 
ishes the traveller that he is among the haunts of banditti; 
perhaps, at that very moment, under the eye of some lurking 
bandalero. Sometimes, in Avinding through the narrow valleys, 
he is startled by a horse bellowing, and beholds above him, on 
some green fold of the mountain side, a herd of fierce Andalu- 
sian bulls, destined for the combat of the arena. There is 
something awful in the contemplation of these terrific animals, 
clothed with tremendous strength, and ranging their native 
pastures, in untamed wildness : strangers almost to the face of 
man. They know no one but the sohtary herdsman who attends 
upon them, and even he at times dares not venture to approach 
them. The low bellowings of these bulls, and their menacing 
aspect as they look down from their rocky height, give addi- 
tional wildness to the savage scenery around. 

1 have been betrayed unconsciously into a longer disquisition 
than I had intended on the several features of Spanish travel- 
Hng ; but there is a romance about all the recollections of the 
Peninsula that is dear to the imagination. 

It was on the first of May that my companion and myself 
set forth from Seville, on our route to Granada. We had made 
all due preparations for the nature of our journey, which lay 
through mountainous regions where the roads are little better 
than mere mule paths, and too frequently beset by robbers. 
The most valuable part of our luggage had been forwarded by 
the arrieros ; we retained merely clothing and necessaries for 
the journey, and money for the expenses of the road, with a 
sufficient surplus of the latter to satisfy the expectations of 
robbers, should we be assailed, and to save ourselves from the 
rough treatment that awaits the too wary and empty handed 
traveller. A couple of stout hired steeds were provided for 
ourselves, and a third for our scanty luggage, and for the 
conveyance of a sturdy Biscayan lad of about twenty years of 
age, who was to guide us through the perplexed mazes of the 
mountain roads, to take care of our horses, to act occasionally 
as our valet, and at all times as our guard ; for he had a for- 
midable trabucho, or carbine, to defend us from rateros, or 
solitary footpads, about which weapon he made much vain- 
glorious boast, though, to the discredit of his generalship, I 
must say that it generally hung unloaded behind his saddle. 
He was, however, a faithful, cheery, kind-hearted creature, full 



12 THE ALHAMBRA. 

of saws and proverbs as that miracle of squires, the renowned 
Sancho himself, whose name we bestowed upon him ; and, like 
a true Spaniard, though treated by us with companionable 
famiharity, he never for a moment in his utmost hilarity over- 
stepped the bounds of respectful decorum. 

Thus equipped and attended, we set out on our journey with 
u genuine disposition to be pleased: with such a disposition, 
;vhat a country is Spain for a traveller, where the most miser- 
able inn is as full of adventure as an enchanted castle, and 
every meal is in itself an achievement ! Let others repine at 
the lack of turnpike roads and sumptuous hotels, and all the 
elaboraue comforts of a country cultivated into tameness and 
common-place, but give me the rude mountain scramble, the 
roving haphazard way-faring, the frank, hospitable, though 
half wild manners, that give such a true game flavour to 
romantic Spain ! 

Our first evening's entertainment had a relish of the kind. 
We arrived after sunset at a little town among the hills, after 
a fatiguing journey over a wide houseless plain, where we had 
been repeatedly drenched with showers. In the inn were 
quartered a party of Miguelistas, who were patrolling the 
country in pursuit of robbers. The appearance of foreigners 
like ourselves was unusual in this remote town. Mine host with 
two or three old gossipping comrades in brown cloaks studied 
our passports in the corner of the posada, while an Alguazil 
took notes by the dim light of a lamp. The passports were in 
foreign languages and perplexed them, but our Squire Sancho 
assisted them in their studies, and magnified our importance 
with the grandiloquence of a Spaniard. In the mean time the 
magnificent di itribution of a few cigars had won the hearts of 
all around us. In a httle while the whole community seemed 
put in agitation to make Us welcome. The Corregidor himself 
waited upon us, and a great rush-bottomed armed chair was 
ostentatiously bolstered into our room by our landlady, for 
the accommodation of that important personage. The com- 
mander of the patrol took supper with us : a surly, talking, 
laughing, swaggering Andaluz, who had made a campaign in 
South Americr«, and recounted his exploits in love and war 
with much pomp of praise and vehemence of gesticulation, and 
mysterious rolling of the eye. He told us he had a list of all 
the robbers in the country, and meant to ferret out every 
mother's son of them ; he offered us at the same time some oi 
his soldiers as an escort. "One is enough to protect you, 



THE JOURNEY. 13 

Signers; the robbers know me, and know my men; the sight 
of one is enough to spread terror through a whole sierra." 
We thanked him for his offer, but assured him, in his own 
strain, that with the protection of our redoubtable Squire 
Sancho, we were not afraid of all the ladrones of Andalusia. 

While we were supping with our Andalusian friend, we 
heard the notes of a guitar and the click of castanets, and 
presently, a chorus of voices, singing a popular air. In fact, 
mine host had gathered together the amateur singers and 
musicians and the rustic belles of the neighbourhood, and on 
going forth, the court-yard of the inn presented a scene of 
true Spanish festivity. We took our seats with mine host and 
hostess and the commander of the patrol, under the archway 
of the court. The guitar passed from hand to hand, but a 
jovial shoemaker was the Orpheus of the place. He was a 
pleasant looking fellow with huge black whiskers and a 
roguish eye. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows; he 
touched the guitar with masterly skill, and sang little amorous 
ditties with an expressive leer at the women, with whom he 
was evidently a favourite. He afterwards danced a fandango 
with a buxom Andalusian damsel, to the great delight of the 
spectators. But none of the females present could compare 
with mine host's pretty daughter Josefa, who had shpped 
away and made her toilette for the occasion, and had adorned 
her head with roses ; and also distinguished herself in a bolero 
with a handsome young dragoon. We had ordered our host 
to let wine and refreshments circulate freely among the 
company, yet, though there was a motley assemblage of 
soldiers, muleteers and villagers, no one exceeded the bounds 
of sober enjoyment. The scene was a study for a painter : the 
picturesque group of dancers ; the troopers in their half mili- 
tary dresses, the peasantry wrapped in their brown cloaks, 
nor must I omit to mention the old meagre Alguazil in a short 
black cloak, who took no notice of any thing going on, but 
sat in a corner diligently writing by the dim Hght of a huge 
copper lamp that might have figured in the days of Don 
Quixote. 

I am not writing a regular narrative, and do not pretend to 
give the varied events of several days' rambUng over hill and 
dale, and moor and mountain. We travelled in true contra- 
bandista style, taking every thing, rough and smooth, as we 
found it, and mingling with aU classes and conditions in a 
kind of vagabond companionship. It is the true way to travel 



14 THE ALHAMBRA. 

in Spain. Knowing tlie scanty larders of the inns, and the 
naked tracts of country the traveller has often to traverse, we 
had taken care, on starting, to have the alforjas, or saddle- 
bags, of our Squire well stocked with cold provisions, and his 
beta, or leathern bottle, which was of portly dimensions, filled 
to the neck with choice Valdepenas wine. As this was a 
munition for our campaign more important than even his 
trabucho, we exhorted him to have an eye to it, and I wiU da 
him the justice to say that his namesake, the trencher-loving 
Sancho himself, could not excel him as a provident purveyor. 
Though the alforjas and beta were repeatedly and vigorously 
assailed throughout the journey, they appeared to have a 
miraculous property of being never empty; for our vigilant 
Squire took care to sack every thing that remained from our 
evening repasts at the inns, to supply our next day's luncheon. 

What luxurious noontide repasts have we made on the 
green sward by the side of a brook or fountain under a shady 
tree, and then what delicious siestas on our cloaks spread out 
on the herbage! 

We paused one day at noon, for a repast of the kind. It 
was in a pleasant httle green meadow, surrounded by hills 
covered with olive trees. Our cloaks were spread on the grass 
under an elm tree, by the side of a babbling rivulet: our horses 
were tethered where they might crop the herbage, and Sancho 
produced his alforjas with an air of triumph. They contained 
the contributions of four days' journeying, but had been sig- 
nally enriched by the foraging of the previous evening, in a 
plenteous inn at Antequera. Our Squire drew forth the 
heterogeneous contents one by one, and they seemed to have 
no end. Firat came forth a shoulder of roasted kid, very Httle 
tho worse for wear, then an entire partridge, then a great 
morsel of salted codfish wrapped in paper, then the residue of 
a ham, then the half of a pullet, together with several roUs of 
bread and a rabble rout of oranges, figs, raisins, and walnuts. 
His beta also had been recruited with some excellent wine of 
Malaga. At every fresh apparition from his larder, he could 
enjoy our ludicrous surprise, throwing himself back on the 
grass and shouting with laughter. 

Nothing pleased this simple-hearted varlet more than to be 
compared, for his devotion to the trencher, to the renowned 
squire of Don Quixote. He was well versed in the history of 
the Don, and, like most of the common people of Spain, he 
firmly believed it to be a true history. 



THE JOURNEY. 15 

"All that, however, happened a long time ago, Signor," said 
he to me, one day, with an inquiring look. 

"A very long time," was the reply. 

"I dare say, more than a thousand years?"— still looking 
dubiously. 

''I dare say? not less." 

The squire was satisfied. 

As we were making our repast above described, and divert- 
ing ourselves with the simple drollery of our squire, a solitary 
beggar approached us, who had almost the look of a pilgrim. 
He was evidently very old, with a gray beard, and .supported 
himself on a staff, yet age had not borne him down ; he was 
fcall and erect, and had the wreck of a fine form. He wore 
a round Andalusian hat, a sheepskin jacket, and leathern 
breeches, gaiters, and sandals. His dress, though old and 
patched, was decent, his demeanour manly, and he addressed 
us with that grave courtesy that is to be remarked in the low- 
est Spaniard. We were in a favourable mood for such a 
visitor, and in a freak of capricious charity gave him some 
silver, a loaf of fine wheaten bread, and a goblet of our choice 
wine of Malaga. He received them thankfully, but without 
any grovelHng tribute of gratitude. Tasting the wine, he held 
it up to the light, with a slight beam of surprise in his eye ; 
then quaffing it off at a draught: " It is many years," said he, 
"since I have tasted such wine. It is a cordial to an old man's 
heart. " Then looking at the beautiful wheaten loaf : ' ' Bendita 
sea tal pan !" (blessed be such bread !) So saying, he put it in 
his wallet. We urged him to eat it on the spot. "No, 
Signors," replied he, "the wine I had to drink, or leave; but 
the bread I must take home to share with my family." 

Our man Sancho sought our eye, and reading permission 
there, gave the old man some of the ample fragments of our 
repast; on condition, however, that he should sit down and 
make a meal. He accordingly took his seat at some little dis- 
tance from us, and began to eat, slowly, and with a sobriety 
and decorum that would have become a *hidalgo. There was 
altogether a measured manner and a quiet self-possession about 
the old man, that made me think he had seen better days ; his 
language, too, though simple, had occasionally something pic- 
turesque and almost poetical in the phraseology. I set him 
down for some broken-down cavalier. I was mistaken, it was 
nothing but the innate courtesy of a Spaniard, and the poetical 
turn of thought and language often to be found in the lowest 



IQ THE ALHAMBEA. 

classes of this clear- witted people. For fifty years, he told us, 
he had been a shepherd, but now he was out of employ, and 
destitute. "When I was a young man," said he, "nothing 
could harm or trouble me. I was always well, always gay ; 
but now I am seventy-nine years of age, and a beggar, and 
my heart begins to fail me." 

Still he was not a regular mendicant, it was not until 
recently that want had driven him to this degradation, and he 
gave a touching picture of the struggle between hunger and 
pride, when abject destitution first came upon him. He was 
returning from Malaga, without money; he had not tasted 
food for some time, and was crossing one of the great plains of 
Spain, where there were but few habitations. When almost 
dead with hunger, he applied at the door of a venta, or country 
inn. "Perdona usted per Dios hermano!" (excuse us, brother, 
for God's sake!) was the reply;— the usual mode in Spain of 
refusing a beggar. "I turned away," said he, "with shame 
gi'eater than my hunger, for my heart was yet too proud. I 
came to a river with high banks and deep rapid current, and 
felt tempted to throw myself in; what should such an old 
worthless wretched man as I live for! But when I was on 
the brink of the current, I thought on the blessed Virgin, and 
kirned away. I travelled on until I saw a country-seat, at a 
little distance from the road, and entered the outer gate of the 
court-yard. The door was shut, but there were two young 
signoras at a window. I approached, and begged : ' Perdona 
usted per Dios hermano ! ' (excuse us, brother, for God's sake !) 
and the window closed. I crept out of the court-yard; but 
hunger overcame me, and my heart gave way. I thought my 
hour was at hand. So I laid myself down at the gate, com- 
mended myself to the holy Virgin, and covered my head to die. 
In a little while afterwards, the master of the house came 
home. Seeing me lying at his gate, he uncovered my head, 
had pity on my gray hairs, took me into his house, and gave 
me food. So, Signers, you see that we should always put con- 
fidence in the protection of the Virgin." 

The old man was on his way to his native place Archidona, 
which was close by the summit of a steep and rugged mountain. 
He pointed to the ruins of its old Moorish castle. That castle, 
he said, was inhabited by a Moorish king at the time of the 
wars of Granada. Queen Isabella invaded it with a great 
army, but the king looked down from his castle among the 
clouds, and laughed her to scorn. Upon this, the Virgin 



THE JOURNEY. 17 

appeared to the queen, and guided her and her army up a mys 
terious path of the mountam, which had never before been 
known. When the Moor saw her coming, he was astonished, 
and springing with his horse from a precipice, was dashed to 
pieces. Th^ marks of his horse's hoofs, said the old man, are 
to be seen on the margin of the rock to this day. And see, 
Signors, yonder is the road by which the queen and her army 
mounted, you see it like a riband up the mountain side ; but 
the miracle is, that, though it can be seen at a distance, when 
you come near, it disappears. The ideal road to wliich he 
pointed, was evidently a sandy ravine of the mountain, which 
looked narrow and defined at a distance, but became broad and 
indistinct on an approach. As the old man's heart warmed 
with wine and wassail, he went on to tell us a story of the 
buried treasure left under the earth by the Moorish king. His 
own house was next to the foundations of the castle. The 
curate and notary dreamt thi-ee times of the treasure, and 
went to work at the place pointed out in their dreams. His 
own son-in-law heard the sound of their pick-axes and si:>ades 
at night. What they found nobody knows ; they became sud- 
denly rich, but kept their own secret. Thus the old man had 
once been next door to fortune, but was doomed never to get 
under the same roof. 

I have remarked that the stories of treasure buried by the 
Moors, which prevail throughout Spain, are most current 
among the poorest people. It is thus kind nature consoles 
with shadows for the lack of substantiaLs. The thirsty man 
dreams of fountains and roaring streams, the hungry man of 
ideal banquets, and the poor man of heaps of hidden gold; 
nothing certainly is more magnificent than the imagination of 
a beggar. 

The last travelling sketch which I shall give is a curious 
scene at the httle city of Loxa. This was a famous belligerent 
frontier post, in the time of the Moors, and repulsed Ferdinand 
from its walls. It was the strong-hold of old Ah Atar, the 
father-in-law of Boabdil, when that fiery veteran salhed forth 
with his son-in-law, on that disastrous inroad, that ended in 
the death of the chieftain, and the capture of the monarch. 
Loxa is wildly situated in a broken mountain pass, on the 
banks of the Xenil, among rocks and groves, and meadows 
and gardens. The people seem still to retain the bold fiery 
spirit of the olden time. Our inn was suited to the place. It 
was kept by a young, handsome, Andalusian widow, whose 



18 THE ALHAMBRA. 

trim busquina of black silk fringed with bugles, set off the 
play of a graceful form, and round pHant Hmbs. Her step was 
firm and elastic, her dark eye was full of fire, and the coquetry 
of her air and varied ornaments of her person showed that 
she was accustomed to be admired. 

She was well matched by a brother, nearly about her own 
age; they were perfect models of the Andalusian ma jo and 
maja. He was tall, vigorous, and well formed, with a clear, 
olive complexion, a dark beaming eye, and curling, chestnut 
whiskers, that met under his chin. He was gallantly dressed 
in a short green velvet jacket, fitted to his shape, profusely 
decorated with silver buttons, with a white handkerchief in 
each pocket. He had breeches of the same, with rows of but- 
tons from the hips to the knees ; a pink silk handkerchief round 
his neck, gathered through a ring, on the bosom of a neatly 
plaited shirt; a sash round the waist to match; bottinas or 
spatterdashes of the finest russet leather, elegantly worked and 
open at the calves to show his stockings, and russet shoes set- 
ting off a well-shaped foot. 

As he was standing at the door, a horseman rode up and 
entered into low and earnest conversation with him. He was 
dressed in similar style, and almost with equal finery. A man 
about thirty, square built, with strong Roman features, hand- 
some, though slightly pitted with the small-pox, with a free, 
bold and somewhat daring air. His powerful black horse was 
decorated with tassels and fanciful trappings, and a couple of 
broad-mouthed blunderbusses hung behind the saddle. He had 
the air of those contrabandistas that I have seen in the moun- 
tains of Ronda, and, evidently, had a good understanding with 
the brother of mine hostess ; nay, if I mistake not, he was a 
favourite admirer of the widow. In fact, the whole inn and its 
inmates had something of a contrabandista aspect, and the 
blunderbuss stood in a corner beside the guitar. The horseman 
I have mentioned, passed his evening in the posada, and sang 
several bold mountain romances with great spirit. 

As we were at supper, two poor Asturians put in in distress, 
begging food and a night's lodging. They had been waylaid by 
robbers as they came from a fair among the mountains, robbed 
of a horse, which carried all their stock in trade, stripped of 
their money and most of their apparel, beaten for having 
offered resistance, and left almost naked in the road. My com- 
panion, with a prompt generosity, natural to him, ordered them 



THE JOURNEY. 19 

a supper and a bed, and gave them a supply of money to help 
them forward towards their home. 

As the evening advanced, the dramatis personae thickened. 
A large man, about sixty years of age, of powerful frame, came 
strolling in, to gossip with mine hostess. He was dressed in 
the ordinary Andalusian costume, but had a huge sabre tucked 
under his arm, wore large moustaches and had something of a 
lofty swaggering air. Every one seemed to regard him with 
great deference. 

Our man, Sancho, whispered to us that he was Don Ventura 
Eodriguez, the hero and champion of Loxa, famous for his 
prowess and the strength of his arm. In the time of the French 
invasion, he surprised six troopers who were asleep. He first 
secured their horses, then attacked them with his sabre ; killed 
some, and took the rest prisoners. For this exploit, the king 
allows him a peceta, (the fifth of a duro, or dollar,) per day, 
and has dignified him with the title of Don. 

I was amused to notice his swelling language and demeanour. 
He was evidently a thorough Andalusian, boastful as he was 
brave. His sabre was always in his hand, or under his arm. 
He carries it always about with him as a child does a doll, calls 
it his Santa Teresa, and says, that when he draws it, " tembla 
la tierra!" (the earth trembles!) 

I sat until a late hour hstening to the varied themes of this 
motley group, who mingled together with the unreserve of a 
Spanish posada. We had contrabandista songs, stories of ub- 
bers, guerilla exploits, and Moorish legends. Tlie last one from 
our handsome landlady, who gave a poetical account of the 
infiernos, or infernal regions of Loxa— dark caverns', in which 
subterraneous streams and waterfalls make a mysterious sound. 
The common people say they are money coiners, shut up there 
from the time of the Moors, and that the Moorish kings kept 
their treasures in these caverns. 

Were it the purport of this work, I could fill its pages with 
the incidents and scenes of our rambling expedition, but other 
themes invite me. Journeying in this manner, we at length 
emerged from the mountains, and entered upon the beautiful 
Vega of Granada. Here we took our last mid-day's repast 
under a grove of olive trees, on the borders of a rivulet, with 
the old Moorish capital in the distance, dominated by the ruddy 
towers of the Alhambra, while far above it the snowy summits 
of the Sierra Nevada shone like silver. The day was without 



20 ^'^^^ ALIIAMBRA. 

a cloud, and the heat of the sun tempered by cool breezes from 
the mountains ; after our repast, wo spread our cloaks and took 
our last siesta, lulled by the humming of bees among the flow- 
ers, and the notes of the ring doves from the neighbouring 
ohve trees. When the sultry hours were past, we resumed 
our journey, and after passing between hedges of aloes and 
Indian figs, and through a wilderness of gardens, arrived about 
sunset at the gates of Granada. 



GOVERNMENT OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

To the traveller imbued with a feeling for the historical and 
poetical, the Alhambra of Granada is as much an object of 
veneration as is the Caaba, or sacred house of Mecca, to all true 
Moslem pilgrims. How many legends and traditions, true and 
fabulous, how many songs and romances, Spanish and Arabian, 
of love and war and chivalry, are associated with this romantic 
pile ! The reader may judge, therefore, of our delight, when, 
shortly after our arrival in Granada, the governor of Alhambra 
gave us permission to occupy his vacant apartments in. the 
Moorish palace. My companion was soon summoned away by 
the duties of his station, but I remained for several months 
spell-bound in the old enchanted pile. The following papers 
are the result of my reveries and researches, during that deli- 
cious thraldom. If they have the power of imparting any of 
the witching charms of the place to the imagination of the 
reader, he will not repine at lingering with me for a season in 
the legendary halls of the Alhambra. 

The Alhambra is an ancient fortress or castellated palace of 
the Moorish kings of Granada, where they held dominion over 
this their boasted terrestrial paradise, and made their last 
stand for empire in Spain. The palace occupies but a portion 
of the fortress, the walls of which, studded with towers, stretch 
irregularly round the whole crest of a lofty hill that overlooks 
the city, and forms a spire of the Sierra Nevada* or Snowy 
Mountain. 

In the time of the Moors, the fortress was capable of contain- 
ing an army of forty thousand men within its precincts, and 
served occasionally as a strong-hold of the sovereigns against 



GOVERNMENT OF THE ALHAMBRA. oj 

their rebellious subjects. After the kingdom had passed into 
the hands of the Christians, the Alhambra continued a royal 
demesne, and was occasionally inhabited by the Castilian 
monarchs. The Emperor Charles V. began a sumptuous 
palace within its walls, but was deterred from completing it by 
repeated shocks of earthquakes. The last royal residents were 
Philip V. and his beautiful Queen Elizabetta, of Parma, early 
in the eighteenth century. 

Great preparations were made for their reception. The 
palace and gardens were placed in a state of repair ; and a new 
suite of apartments erected, and decorated by artists brought 
from Itah', The sojourn of the sovereigns was transient; 
and, after their departure, the palace once more became deso- 
late. Still the place was maintained with some military state. 
The governor held it immediately fi'om the crown : its jurisdic- 
tion extended down into the suburbs of the city, and was 
independent of the captain general of Granada. A consider- 
able garrison was kept up ; the governor had his apartments 
in the old Moorish palace, and never descended into Granada 
without some military parade. The fortress, in fact, was a 
little town of itself, having several streets of houses within its 
walls, together with a Franciscan convent and a parochial 
church. 

The desertion of the court, however, was a fatal blow to the 
Alhambra. Its beautiful walls became desolate, and some of 
them fell to ruin ; the gardens were destroyed, and the foun- 
tains ceased to play. By degrees the dwellings became filled 
up with a loose and lawless population ; contrabandistas, who 
availed themselves of its independent jurisdiction, to carry on 
a wide and daring course of smuggling, and thieves and rogues 
of all sorts, who made this their place of refuge, from whence 
they might depredate upon Granada and its vicinity. The 
strong arm of government at length interposed. The whole 
community was thoroughly sifted; none were suffered to 
remain but such as were of honest character and had legiti- 
mate right to a residence ; the greater part of the houses were 
demolished, and a mere hamlet left, with the parochial church 
and the Franciscan convent. 

During the recent troubles in Spain, when Granada was in 
the hands of the French, the Alhambra was garrisoned by 
their troops, and the palace was occasionally inhabited by the 
French commander. With that enlightened taste which has 
ever distinguished the French nation in their conquests, this 



22 THE- ALHAMBRA. 

monument of Moorish elegance and grandeur was rescued 
from the absolute ruin and desolation that were overwhelming 
it. The roofs were repaired, the saloons and galleries pro- 
tected from the weather, the gardens cultivated, the water- 
courses restored, the fountains once more made to throw up 
their sparkling showers : and Spain may thank her invaders 
for having preserved to her the most beautiful and interesting 
of her historical monuments. 

On the departure of the French, they blew up several towers 
of the outer wall, and left the fortifications scarcely tenable. 
Since that time, the military importance of the post is at an 
end. The garrison is a handful of invalid soldiers, whose prin- 
cipal duty is to guard some of the outer towers, which serve, 
occasionally, as a prison of state ; and the governor, abandon- 
in g the lofty hill of the Alhambra, resides in the centre of 
Granada, for the more convenient despatch of his official 
duties. I cannot conclude this brief notice of the state of the 
fortress, without bearing testimony to the honourable exertions 
of its present commander, Don Francisco de Salis Serna, who 
is tasking all the limited resources at his command, to put the 
palace in a state of repair ; and by his judicious precautions 
has for some time arrested its too certain decay. Had his 
predecessors discharged the duties of their station with equal 
fidelity, the Alhambra might yet have remained in almost its 
pristine beauty ; were government to second him with means 
equal to his zeal, this edifice might still be preserved to adorn 
the land, and to attract the curious and enhghtened of every 
clime, for many generations. 



INTEEIOR OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

The Alhambra has been so often and so minutely described 
by travellers, that a mere sketch will probably be sufficient 
for the reader to refresh his recollection ; I will give, therefore, 
a brief account of our visit to it the morning after our arrival 
in Granada. 

Leaving our posada of La Espada, we traversed the renowned 
square of the Vivarrambla, once the scene of Moorish jousts 
and tournaments, now a crowded market place. From thence 
we proceeded along the Zacatin, the main street of what was 



INTERIOR OF THE ALHAMBRA. 2^ 

the great Bazaar, in the time of the Moors, where the small 
shops and narrow alleys still retain their Oriental character. 
Crossing an open place in front of the palace of the captain- 
general, we ascended a confined and winding street, the name 
of which reminded us of the chivalric days of Granada. It is 
called the Calle^ or street of the Gomeres: from a Moorish 
family, famous in chronicle and song. This street led up to a 
mansion gateway of Grecian architecture, built by Charles V., 
forming the entrance to the domains of the Alhambra. 

At the gate were two or three ragged and superannuated 
soldiers, dozing on a stone bench, the successors of the Zegris 
and the Abencerrages ; while a tall, meagre varlet, whose 
rusty brown cloak was, evidently, intended to conceal the 
ragged state of his nether garments, was lounging in the sun- 
shine, and gossipping with an ancient sentinel, on duty. He 
joined us as we entered the gate, and offered his services to 
showed us the fortress. 

I have a traveller's dishke to officious ciceroni, and did not 
altogether like the garb of the applicant : 

" You are well acquainted with the place, I presume?" 
" Niiiguno mas — pues, sefior, soy hi jo de la Alhambra." 
(Nobody better — in fact, sir, I am a son of the Alhambra.) 
The common Spaniards have certainly a most poetical way of 
expressing themselves— " A son of the Alhambra:" the appel- 
lation caught me at once ; the very tattered garb of my new 
acquaintance assumed a dignity in my eyes. It was emble- 
matic of the features of the place, and became the progeny of a 
ruin, 

I put some further questions to him, and found his title was 
legitimate. His family had lived in the fortress from genera- 
tion to generation ever since the time of the conquest. His 
name was Mateo Ximenes. "Then, perhaps," said I, "you 
may be a descendant from the great Cardinal Ximenes." 

' ' Dios sabe ! God knows, senor. It may be so. We are the 
oldest family in the Alhambra. Viejos Cristianos, old Chris- 
tians, without any taint of Moor or Jew. I know we belong to 
some great family or other, but I forget who. My father 
knows all about it. He has the coat of arms hanging up in 
his cottage, up in the fortress."— There is never a Spaniard, 
however poor, but has some claim to high pedigree. The first 
title of this ragged worthy, however, had completely captivated 
me, so I gladly accepted the ser\dces of the "son of the Al- 
hambra." 



24 THE ALHAMBRA. 

We now found ourselves in a deep narrow ravine, filled with 
beautiful groves, with a steep avenue and various foot-paths 
winding through it, bordered with stone seats and ornamented 
with fountains. To our left, we beheld the towers of the Al- 
hambra beetling above us ; to our right, on the opposite side of 
the ravine, we were equally dominated by rival towers on a 
rocky eminence. These, we were told, were the Torres Ver- 
mejos, or Vermihon towers, so called from their ruddy hue. 
!^o one knows their origin. They are of a date much anterior 
to the Alhambra. Some suppose them to have been built by 
the Eomans ; others, by some wandering colony of Phoenicians. 
Ascending the steep and shady avenue, we arrived at the foot 
of a huge square Moorish tower, forming a kind of barbican, 
through which passed the main entrance to the fortress. 
Within the barbican was another group of veteran invalids, 
one mounting guard at the portal, while the rest, wrapped in 
their tattered cloaks, slept on the stone benches. This portal 
is called the Gate of Justice, from the tribunal held within its 
porch during the Moslem domination, for the immediate trial 
of petty causes ; a custom common to the Oriental nations, and 
occasionally alluded to in the sacred Scriptures. 

The great vestibule, or porch of the gate, is formed by an 
immense Arabian arch of the horseshoe form, which springs 
to half the height of the tower. On the key-stone of this arch 
is engraven a gigantic hand. Within the vestibule, on the 
key-stone of the portal, is engraven, in like manner, a gigantic 
key. Those who pretend to some knowledge of Mahometan 
symbols, affirm, that the hand is the emblem of doctrine, and 
the key, of faith ; the latter, they add, was emblazoned on the 
standard of the Moslems when they subdued Andalusia, in op- 
position to the Christian emblem of the cross. A different ex- 
planation, however, was given by the legitimate "son of the 
Alhambra," and one more in unison with the notions of the 
common people, who attach something of mystery and magic 
to everything Moorish, and have all kinds of superstitions 
con-nected with this old Moslem fortress. 

According to Mateo, it was a tradition handed down from 
the oldest inhabitants, and which he had from his father and 
grandfather, that the hand and key were magical devices on 
which the fate of the Alhambra depended. The Moorish king 
who built it was a great magician, and, as some believed, had 
sold himself to the devil, and had laid the whole fortress under 
rt magic spell. By this means it had remained standing for 



INTERIOR OF THE ALHAMBRA. 25 

several hundred years, in defiance of storms and earthquakes, 
while almost all the other buildings of the Moors had fallen to 
ruin and disappeared. The spell, the tradition went on to say, 
would last until the hand on the outer arch should reach down 
and grasp the key, when the whole pile would tumble to pieces, 
and all the treasures buried beneath it by the Moors would be 
revealed. 

Notwithstanding this ominous prediction, we ventured to 
pass through the spell-bound gateway, feeling some little as- 
surance against magic art in the protection of the Virgin, a 
statue of whom we observed above the portal. 

After passmg through the Barbican, we ascended a narrow 
lane, winding between walls, and came on an open esplanade 
within the fortress, called the Plaza de los Algibes, or Place of 
the Cisterns, from great reservoirs which undermine it, cut in 
the living rock by the Moors, for the supply of the fortress. 
Here, also, is a well of immense depth, furnishing the purest 
and coldest of water,— another monument of the delicate taste 
of the Moors, who were indefatigable in their exertions to ob- 
tain that element in its crystal purity. 

In front of this esplanade is the splendid pile, commenced by 
Charles V., intended, it is said, to eclipse the residence of the 
Moslem kings. With all its grandeur and architectural merit, 
it appeared to us like an arrogant intrusion, and passing by it 
we entered a simple unostentatious portal, opening into the in- 
terior of the Moorish palace. 

The transition was almost magical ; it seemed as if we were 
at once transported into other times and another realm, and 
were treading the scenes of Arabian story. We found our- 
selves in a great court paved with white marble and decorated 
at each end with light Moorish peristyles. It is caUed the 
court of the Alberca. In the centre was an immense basin, or 
fish-pool, a hundred and thirty feet in length, by thirty in 
breadth, stocked with gold-fish, and bordered by hedges of 
roses. At the upper end of this court, rose the great tower of 
Comares. 

From the lower end, we passed through a Moorish arch- way 
into the renowned Court of Lions. There is no part of the edi- 
fice that gives us a more complete idea of its original beauty 
and magnificence than this ; for none has suffered so little from 
the*ravages of time. In the centre stands the fountain famous 
in song and story. The alabaster basins still shed their dia- 
mond drops, and the twelve lions which support them, cast 



26 THE ALHAMBRA. 

forth their crystal streams as in the days of Boabdil. The 
court is laid out in flower beds, and surrounded by light Ara- 
bian arcades of open filigree work, supported by slender pil- 
lars of white marble. The architecture, hke that of all the 
other parts of the palace, is characterized by elegance, rather 
than grandeur, bespeaking a delicate and graceful taste, and a 
disposition to indolent enjoyment. When we look upon the 
fairy tracery of the peristyles, and the apparently fragile fret- 
work of the waUs, it is difficult to believe that so much has 
survived the wear and tear of centuries, the shocks of earth- 
quakes, the violence of war, and the quiet, though no less 
baneful, pilferings of the tasteful traveller. It is almost suffi- 
cient to excuse the popular tradition, that the whole is pro- 
tected by a magic charm. 

On one side of the court, a portal richly adorned opens into 
a lofty haU paved with white marble, and called the Hall of 
the two Sisters. A cupola or lantern admits a tempered light 
from above, and a free circulation of air. The lower part of 
the walls is incrusted with beautiful Moorish tiles, on some of 
which are emblazoned the escutcheons of the Moorish mon- 
arch s : the upper part is faced with the fine stucco work in- 
vented at Damascus, consisting of large plates cast in moulds 
and artfully joined, so as to have the appearance of having 
been laboriously sculptured by the hand into light rehevos and 
fanciful arabesques, intermingled with texts of the Koran, and 
poetical inscriptions in Arabian and Celtic characters. These 
decorations of the walls and cupolas are richly gilded, and the 
interstices panelled with lapis lazuli and other brilliant and en 
during colours. On each side of the wall are recesses for otto- 
mans and arches. Above an inner porch, is a balcony which 
communicated with the women's apartment. The latticed bal- 
conies still remain, from whence the dark-eyed beauties of the 
harem might gaze unseen upon the entertainments of the haU 
below. 

It is impossible to contemplate this once favourite abode of 
Oriental manners, without feeling the early associations of 
Arabian romance, and almost expecting to see the white arm 
of some mysterious princess beckoning from the balcony, or 
some dark eye sparkling through the lattice. The abode of 
beauty is here, as if it had been inhabited but yesterday — but 
where are the Zoraydas and Linderaxas ! * 

On the opposite side of the court of Lions, is the hall of the 
Abencerrages, so called from the gallant cavaliers of that 



INTERIOR OF TEE ALUAMBRA. 27 

\ illustrious line, who were here perfidiously massacred. There 
are some who doubt the whole truth of this story, but our 
humble attendant, Mateo, pointed out the very wicket of the 
portal through which they are said to have been introduced, 
one by one, and the white marble fountain in the centre of the 
hall, where they were beheaded. He showed us also certain 
broad ruddy stains in the pavement, traces of their blood, 
which, according to popular belief, can never be effaced. 
Finding we listened to him with easy faith, he added, that 
there was often heard at night, in the Court of the Lions, a 
low confused sound, resembling the murmurings of a multi- 
tude; with now and then a faint tinkhng, like the distant 
clank of chains. These noises are probably produced by the 
bubbling currents and tinkling falls of water, conducted under 
the pavement through pipes and channels to supply the foun- 
tains ; but according to the legend of the son of the Alhambra, 
they are made by the spirits of the murdered Abencerrages, 
who nightly haunt the scene of their suffering, and invoke the 

I vengeance of Heaven on their destroyer. 

' . From the Court of Lions, we retraced our steps through the 
court of the Alberca, or great fish-pool, crossing which, we pro- 
ceeded to the tower of Comares, so called from the name of 
the Arabian architect. It is of massive strength, and lofty 
height, domineering over the rest of the edifice, and overhang- 
ing the steep hill-side, which descends abruptly to the banks of 
the Darro. A Moorish archway admitted us into a vast and 
lofty hall, which occupies the interior of the tower, and was 
the grand audience chamber of the Moslem monarchs, thence 
called the hall of Ambassadors. It still bears the traces of 
past magnificence. The walls are richly stuccoed and dec- 
orated with arabesques, the vaulted ceilings of cedar wood, 
almost lost in obscurity from its height, still gleam with rich 
. gilding and the brilliant tints of the Arabian pencil. On three 
sides of the saloon are deep windows, cut through the im- 
mense thickness of the walls, the balconies of which look 
down upon the verdant vaUey of the Darro, the streets and 
convents of the Albaycin, and command a prospect of the dis- 
tant Vega. I might go on to describe the other delightful 
apartments of this side of the palace ; the Tocador or toilet of 
the Queen, an open belvedere on the summit of the tower, 
Avhere the Moorish sultanas enjoyed the pure breezes from the 
mountain and the prospect of the surrounding paradise. The 
secluded little patio or garden of Lindaraxa, with its alabaster 



28 THE ALHAMBRA. 

fountain, its thickets of roses and myrtles, of citrons and 
oranges. The cool halls and grottoes of the baths, where the 
glare and heat of day are tempered into a self -mysterious light 
and a pervading freshness. But I appear to dwell minutely 
on these scenes. My object is merely to give the reader a gen- 
eral introduction into an abode, where, if disposed, he may 
linger and loiter with me through the remainder of this work, 
gradually becoming familiar with all its beauties. 

An abundant supply of water, brought from the mountains 
by old Moorish aqueducts, circulates throughout the palace, 
supplying its baths and fish-pools, sparkling in jets within its 
halls, or murmuring in channels along the marble pavements. 
When it has paid its tribute to the royal pile, and visited its 
gardens and pastures, it flows down the long avenue leading 
to the city, tinkling in rills, gushing in fountains, and main- 
taining a perpetual verdure in those groves that embower and 
beautify the whole hill of the Alhambra. 

Those, only, who have sojourned in the ardent chmates of 
the South, can appreciate the dehghts of an abode combining 
the breezy coolness of the mountain with the freshness and 
verdure of the valley. 

While the city below pants with the noon-tide heat, and the 
parched Vega trembles to the eye, the delicate airs from the 
Sierra Nevada play through the lofty halls, bringing with 
them the sweetness of the surrounding gardens. Every thing 
invites to that indolent repose, the bliss of Southern climes; 
and while the half -shut eye looks out from shaded balconies 
upon the glittering landscape, the ear is lulled by the rustling 
of groves, and the murmur of running streams. 



THE TOWER OF COMARES. 

The reader has had a sketch of the interior of the Alhambra, 
and may be desirous of a general idea of its vicinity. The 
morning is serene and lovely; the sun has not gained suffi- 
cient power to destroy the freshness of the night; we will 
mount to the summit of the tower of Comares, and take a 
bird's-eye view of Granada and its environs. 

Come, then, worthy reader and comrade, follow my steps 
into this vestibule ornamented with rich tracery, which opens 
to the hall of Ambassadors. We will not enter the hall, how 



THE TOWER OF COMARES. 29 

^ ever, but turn to the left, to this small door, opening in the 
\ wall. Have a care ! here are steep winding steps and but 
scanty light. Yet, up this narrow, obscure and winding stair- 
case, the proud monarchs of Granada and their queens have 
often ascended to the battlements of the tower to watch the 
approach of Cliristian armies ; or to gaze on the battles in the 
Vega. At length we are upon the terraced roof, and may take 
breath for a moment, while we cast a general eye over th« 
splendid panorama of city and country, of rocky mountain, 
verdant valley and fertile plain ; of castle, cathedral, Moorish 
towers and Gothic domes, crmnbling ruins and blooming 
groves. 

Let us approach the battlements and cast om* eyes imme- 
diately below. See, — on this side we have the whole plan of 
the Alhambra laid open to us, and can look down into its 
courts and gardens. At the foot of the tower is the Court of 
the Alberca with its great tank or fish-pool bordered with 
flowers; and yonder is the Court of Lions, with its famous 
fountain, and its light Moorish arcades; and in the centre of 
the pile is the little garden of Lindaraxa, buried in the heart 
of the building, with its roses and citrons and shrubbery of 
emerald green. 

That belt of battlements studded with square towers, strag- 
gling round the whole brow of the hill, is the outer boundary 
of the fortress. Some of the towers, you may perceive, are in 
ruins, and their massive fragments are buried among vines, 
fig-trees and aloes. 

Let us look on this northern side of the tower. It is a giddy 
height; the very foundations of the tower rise above the 
groves of the steep hill-side. And see, a long fissure in the 
massive walls shows that the tower has been rent by some of 
the earthquakes, which from time to time have thrown Grana- 
da into consternation ; and which, sooner or later, must reduce 
this crumbhng pile to a mere mass of ruin. The deep narrow 
glen below us, which gradually widens as it opens from the 
mountains, is the valley of the Darro ; you see the little river 
winding its way under embowered terraces, and among or- 
chards and flower gardens. It is a stream famous in old tunes 
for yielding gold, and its sands are still sifted, occasionally, in 
search of the precious ore. 

Some of those white pavilions which here and there gleam 
from among groves and vineyards, were rustic retreats of tho 
Moors, to enjoy the refreshment of their gardens. 



30 THE ALHAMBllA. 

The airy palace with its tall white towers and long arcades, 
which breast yon mountain, among pompous groves and hang- 
ing gardens, is the Generaliffe, a summer palace of the Moor- 
ish kings, to which they resorted during the sultry months, 
to enjoy a still more breezy region than that of the Alhambra. 
The naked summit of the height above it, where you behold 
some shapeless ruins, is the Silla del Moro, or seat of t^e Moor; 
so called from having been a retreat of the unfortunate Boab- 
dil, during the time of an insurrection, where he seated himself 
and looked down mournfully upon his rebelhous city. 

A murmuring sound of water now and then rises from the 
valley. It is from the aqueduct of yon Moorish mill nearly at 
the foot of the hill. The avenue of trees beyond, is the Ala- 
meda along the bank of the Darro, a favourite resort in even- 
ings, and a rendezvous of lovers in the summer nights, when 
the guitar may be heard at a late hour from the benches along 
its walks. At present there are but a few loitering monks to 
be seen there, and a group of water carriers from the fountain 
of Avellanos. 

You start ! 'Tis nothing but a hawk we have frightened 
from his nest. This old tower is a complete brooding-place for 
vagrant birds. The swallow and martlet abound in every 
chink and cranny, and circle about it the whole day long ; 
while at night, when all other birds have gone to rest, the mop- 
ing owl comes out of its lurking place, and utters its boding 
cry from the battlements. See how the hawk we have dis- 
lodged sweeps away below us, skinuning over the tops of the 
trees, and sailing up to ruins above the Generaliffe. 

Let us leave this side of the tower and turn our eyes to the 
west. Here you behold in the distance a range of mountains 
bounding the Vega, the ancient barrier between Moslem Grana- 
da and the land of the Christians. Among the heights you 
may still discern warrior towns, whose gray walls and battle- 
ments seem of a piece with the rocks on which they are built ; 
while here and there is a solitary atalaya or watch-tower, 
mounted on some lofty point, and looking down as if it were 
from the sky, into the valleys on either side. It was down th^ 
defiles of these mountains, by the pass of Lope, that the Chris- 
tian armies descended into the Vega. It was round the base 
of yon gray and naked mountain, almost insulated from the 
rest, and stretching its bald rocky promontory into the bosom 
of the plain, that the invading squadrons would come bursting 
into view, with flaunting banners and the clangour of drums 



THE TOWER OF COMARES. 31, 

and trumpets. How changed is the scene! Instead of the 
ghttering hne of mailed warriors, we behold the patient train 
of the toilful muleteer, slowly moving along the skirts of the 
mountain. 

Behind that promontory, is the eventful bridge of Pinos, 
renowned for many a bloody strife between Moors and Chris^ 
tians ; but still more renowned as being the place where Co- 
lumbus was overtaken and called back by the messenger of 
Queen Isabella, just as he was departing in despair to carry 
his project of discovery to the court of France, 

Behold another place famous in the history of the discoverer: 
yon line of walls and towers, gleaming in the morning sun in 
the very centre of the Vega ; the city of Santa Fe, built by the 
Catholic sovereigns during the siege of Granada, after a con- 
flagration had destroyed their camp. It was to these walls 
that Columbus was called back by the heroic queen, and within 
them the treaty was concluded that led to the discovery of the 
Western World. 

Here, towards the south, the eye revels on the luxuriant 
beauties of the Vega ; a blooming wilderness of grove and gar- 
den, and teeming orchards ; with the Xenil winding through 
it in silver links and feeding innumerable rUls, conducted 
through ancient Moorish channels, which maintain the land- 
scape in perpetual verdure. Here are the beloved bowers and 
gardens, and rural retreats for which the Moors fought with 
such desperate valour. The very farm-houses and hovels 
which are now inhabited by the boors, retain traces of ara- 
besques and other tasteful decorations, which show them to 
have been elegant residences in the days of the Moslems. 

Beyond the embowered region of the Vega you behold, to 
the south, a line of arid hills down which a long train of mules 
is slowly moving. It was from the summit of one of those 
hills that the unfortunate Boabdil cast back his last look upon 
Granada and gave vent to the agony of his soul. It is the spot 
famous in song and story, "The last sigh of the Moor." 

Now raise your eyes to the snowy sumixdt of yon pile ot 
mountains, shining like a white summer cloud on the blue sky. 
It is the Sierra Nevada, the pride and delight of Granada ; the 
source of her cooUng breezes and perpetual verdure, of her 
gushing fountains and perennial streams. It is this glorious 
pile of mountains that gives to Granada that combination of 
delights so rare in a southern city. The fresh vegetation, and 
the temperate airs of a northern climate, with the vivifj^ing 



32 TEE ALHAMBRA. 

ardour of a tropical sun, and the cloudless azure of a southern 
sky. It is this aerial treasury of snow, which, melting in 
proportion to the increase of the summer heat, sends down 
rivulets and streams through every glen and gorge of the Al- 
puxarras, diffusing emerald verdure and fertility throughout a 
chain of happy and sequestered valleys. 

These mountains may well be called the glory of Granada, 
They dominate the whole extent of Andalusia, and may b( 
seen from its most distant parts. The muleteer hails them as 
he views their frosty peaks from the sultry level of the plain ; 
and the Spanish mariner on the deck of his bark, far, far off, 
on the bosom of the blue Mediterranean, watches them with a 
pensive eye, thinks of delightful Granada, and chants in low 
voice some old romance about the Moors. 

But enough, the sun is high above the mountains, and is 
pouring his full fervour upon our heads. Already the terraced 
roof of the town is hot beneath our feet, let us abandon it, and 
descend and refresh ourselves under the arcades by the foun- 
tain of the Lions. 



REFLECTIONS 

ON THE MOSLEM DOMINATION IN SPAIN. 

One of my favourite resorts is the balcony of the central 
window of the Hall of Ambassadors, in the lofty tower of 
Comares. I have just been seated there, enjoying the close of 
a long brilliant day. The sun, as he sank behind the purple 
mountains of Alhama, sent a stream of effulgence up the val- 
ley of the Darro, that spread a melancholy pomp over the 
ruddy towers of the Alhambra, while the Vega, covered with 
a shght sultry vapour that caught the setting ray, seemed 
spread out in the distance hke a, golden sea. Not a breath of 
air disturbed the stillness of the hour, and though the faint 
sound of music and merriment now and then arose from the 
gardens of the Darro, it but rendered more impressive the 
monumental silence of the pile which overshadowed me. It 
was one of those hours and scenes in which memory asserts an 
almost magical power, and, like the evening sun beammg on 
these mouldering towers, sends back her retrospective rays to 
Hght up the glories of the past. 



REFLECTIONS. 33 

As I sat watching the effect of the declining dayhght upon 
this Moorish pile, I was led into a consideration of the light, 
elegant and voluptuous character prevalent throughout its 
internal architecture, and to contrast it Avith the grand but 
gloomy solemnity of the Gothic edifices, reared by the Spanish 
conquerors. The very architecture thus bespeaks the opposite 
and irreconcilable natures of the two warhke people, who so 
long battled here for the mastery of the Peninsula. By de- 
grees I fell into a course of musing upon the singular features 
of the Arabian or Morisco Spaniards, whose whole existence is 
as a tale that is told, and certainly forms one of the most 
anomalous yet splendid episodes in history. Potent and dura- 
ble as was their dominion, we have no one distinct title by 
which to designate them. They were a nation, as it were, 
without a legitimate country or a name. A remote wave of 
the great Arabian inundation, cast upon the shores of Europe, 
they seemed to have all the impetus of the first rush of the 
torrent. Their course of conquest from the rock of Gibraltar 
to the cliffs of the Pyrenees, was as rapid and brilliant as the 
Moslem victories of Syria and Egypt. Nay, had they not 
been checked on the plains of Tours, all France, all Europe, 
might have been overrun with the same facihty as the empires 
of the east, and the crescent might at this day have glittered 
on the fanes of Paris and of London. 

Repelled within the limits of the Pyrenees, the mixed hordes 
of Asia and Africa that formed this great irruption, gave up 
the Moslem principles of conquest, and sought to establish in 
Spain a peaceful and permanent dominion. As conquerors 
their heroism was only equalled by their moderation ; and in 
both, for a time, they excelled the nations with whom they 
contended. Severed from their native homes, they loved the 
land given them, as they supposed, by Allah, and strove to 
embellish it with every thing that could administer to the 
happiness of man. Laying the foundations of their power in 
a system of wise and equitable laws, diligently cultivating the 
arts and sciences, and promoting agriculture, manufactures, 
and commerce, they gradually formed an empire unrivalled 
for its prosperity, by any of the empires of Christendom ; and 
diligently drawing round them the graces and refinements 
that marked the Arabian empire in the east at the time of its 
greatest civilization, they diffused the light of oriental know- 
ledge through the western regions of benighted Europe. 

The cities of Arabian Spain became the resort of Christian 



34 THE ALHAMBRA. 

artisans, to instruct themselves in the useful arts. The uni- 
versities of Toledo, Cordova, Seville, and Granada were sought 
by the pale student from other lands, to acquaint himself with 
the sciences of the Arabs, and the treasured lore of antiquity ; 
the lovers of the gay sciences resorted to Cordova and Gra- 
nada, to imbibe the poetry and music of the east ; and the 
steel-clad warriors of the north hastened thither, to accom- 
phsh themselves in the graceful exercises and courteous usages 
of chivalry. 

If the Moslem monuments in Spain ; if the Mosque of Cor- 
dova, the Alcazar of Seville and the Alhambra of Granada, 
stiU bear inscriptions fondly boasting of the power and per- 
manency of their dominion, can the boast be derided as arro- 
gant and vain? Generation after generation, century after 
century had passed away, and still they maintained pos- 
session of the land. A period had elapsed longer than that 
which has passed since England was subjugated by the Nor- 
man conqueror ; and the descendants of Musa and Tarik might 
as little anticipate being driven intg exile, across the same 
straits traversed by their triumphant ancestors, as the de- 
scendants of RoUo and William and their victorious peers may 
dream of being driven back to the shores of Normandy. 

With all this, however, the Moslem empire in Spain was but 
a brilhant exotic that took no permanent root in the soil it em- 
bellished. Severed from all their neighbours of the west by 
impassable barriers of faith and manners, and separated by 
seas and deserts from their kindred of the east, they were an 
isolated people. Their whole existence was a prolonged though 
gallant and chivalric stiniggle for a foot-hold in a usurped land. 
They were the outposts and frontiers of Islamism. The pen- 
insula was the great battle ground where the Gothic con- 
querors of the north and the Moslem conquerors of the east, 
met and strove for mastery ; and the fiery courage of the Arab 
was at length subdued by the obstinate and persevering valour 
of the Goth. 

Never was the annihilation of a people more complete than 
that of the Morisco Spaniards. Where are they? Ask the 
shores of Barbary and its desert places. The exiled remnant 
of their once powerful empire disappeared among the. bar- 
barians of Africa, and ceased to be a nation. They have not 
even left a distinct name behind them, though for nearly eight 
centuries they were a distinct people. The home of their 
adoption and of their occupation for ages refuses to acknow- 



THE HOUSEHOLD. ^5 

ledge them but as invaders and usurpers. A few broken 
monuments are all that remain to bear witness to their power 
and dominion, as solitary rocks left far in the interior bear 
testimony to the extent of some vast inundation. Such is the 
Alhambra. A Moslem pile in the midst of a Christian land ; 
an oriental palace amidst the Gothic edifices of the west ; an 
elegant memento of a brave, intelligent and graceful peoi)le, 
who conquered, ruled, and passed away. 



THE HOUSEHOLD. 

It is time that I give some idea of my domestic arrangements 
in this singular residence. The royal palace of the Alhambra 
is intrusted to the care of a good old maiden dame called Dona 
Antonia Molina, but who, according to Spanish custom, goes 
by the more neighbourly appellation of Tia Antonia (Aunt An- 
tonia). She maintains the Moorish halls and gardens in order, 
and shows them to strangers ; in consideration of which, she is 
allowed all the perquisites received from visitors and all the 
produce of the gardens, excepting that she is expected to pay 
an occasional tribute of fruits and flowers to the governor. 
Her residence is in a corner of the palace, and her family con- 
sists of a nephew and niece, the children of two different broth- 
ers. The nephew, Manuel Molina, is a young man of sterling 
worth and Spanish gravity. He has served in the armies both 
in Spain and the West Indies, but is now studying medicine in 
hopes of one day or other becoming physician to the for- 
tress, a post worth at least a hundred and forty dollars a year. 
As to the niece, she is a plump httle black-eyed Andalusian 
damsel named Dolores, but who from her bright looks and 
cheerful disposition merits a merrier name. She is the declared 
heiress of all her aunt's possessions, consisting of certain ruin- 
ous tenements in the fortress, yielding a revenue of about one 
hundred and fifty doUars. I had not been long in the Alham- 
bra before I discovered that a quiet courtship was going on be- 
tween the discreet Manuel and his bright-eyed cousin, and that 
nothing was wanting to enable them to join their hands and 
expectations, but that he should receive his doctor's diploma, 
and purchase a dispensation from the pope, on account of their 
consanguinity. 



33 THE ALEAMBRA. 

With the good dame Antonia I have made a treaty, accord- 
ing to which, she furnishes me with board and lodging, while 
the merry-hearted little Dolores keeps my apartment in order 
and officiates as handmaid at meal times. I have also at my 
command a tall, stuttering, yellow-haired lad named Pepe, 
who works in the garden, and would fain have acted as valet, 
but in this he was forestalled by Mateo Ximenes, " The son of 
the Alhambra." This alert and officious wight has managed, 
somehow or other, to stick by me, ever since I first encountered 
him at the outer gate of the fortress, and to weave himself into 
all my plans, until he has fairly appointed and installed him- 
self my valet, cicerone, guide, guard, and historio-graphic 
squire; and I have been obhged to improve the state of his 
wardrobe, that he may not disgrace his various functions, so 
that he has cast off his old brown mantle, as a snake does his 
skin, and now figures about the fortress with a smart Andalu- 
sian hat and jacket, to his infinite satisfaction and the great 
astonishment of his comrades. The chief fault of honest Mateo 
is an over-anxiety to be useful. Conscious of having foisted 
himself into my employ, and that my simple and quiet habits 
render his situation a sinecure, he is at his wit's end to devise 
modes of making himself important to my welfare. I am in a 
manner the victim of his officiousness ; I cannot put my foot 
over the threshold of the palace to stroll about the fortress, but 
he is at my elbow to explain every thing I see, and if I venture 
to ramble among the surrounding hills, he insists upon attend- 
ing me as a guard, though I vehemently suspect he would be 
more apt to trust to the length of his legs than the strength of 
his arms in case of attack. After all, however, the poor fellow 
is at times an amusing companion ; he is simple-minded and of 
infinite good humour, with the loquacity and gossip of a village 
barber, and knows all the small talk of the place and its envi- 
rons ; but what he chiefly values himself on is his stock of local 
information, having the most marvellous stories to relate of 
every tower, and vault and gateway of the fortress, in all of 
which he places the most implicit faith. 

Most of these he has derived, according to his own account, 
from his grandfather, a little legendary tailor, w^ho lived to the 
age of nearly a hundred yeare, during which he made but two 
migrations beyond the precincts of the fortress. His shop, for 
the greater part of a century, was the resort of a knot of vener- 
able gossips, where they would pass half the night talking about 
old times and the wonderful events and hidden secrets of the 



THE HOUSEHOLD. 37 

place. The whole living, moving, thinking and acting of this 
httle historical tailor, had thus been bounded by the walls of 
the Alhambra ; within them he had been born, within them he 
lived, breathed and had his being, within them he died and 
was buried. Fortimately for posterity his traditionary lore 
died not with him. The authentic Mateo, when an urchin, 
used to be an attentive Ustener to the narratives of his grand- 
father and of the gossip group assembled round the shop board, 
and is thus possessed of a stock of valuable knowledge concern- 
ing the Alhambra, not to be found in the books, and well 
worthy the attention of every curious traveller. 

Such are the personages that contribute to my domestic com- 
forts in the Alhambra, and I question whether any of the po- 
tentates, Moslem or Christian, who have preceded me in the 
palace, have been waited upon with greater fidehty or enjoyed 
a serener sway. 

When I rise in the morning, Pepe, the stuttering lad, from 
the gardens, brings me a tribute of fresh culled flowers, which 
are afterwards arranged in vases by the skilful hand of Dolores, 
who takes no small pride in the- decorations of my chamber. 
My meals are made wherever caprice dictates, sometimes in 
one of the Moorish halls, sometimes under the arcades of the 
Court of Lions, surrounded by flowers and fountains; and 
when I walk out I am conducted by the assiduous Mateo to the 
most romantic retreats of the mountains and delicious haunts 
of the adjacent valleys, not one of which but is the scene of 
some wonderful tale. 

Though fond of passing the greater part of my day alone, yet 
I occasionally repair in the evenings to the little domestic cir- 
cle of Dona Antonia. Tliis is generally held in an old Moorish 
chamber, that serves for kitchen as well as hall, a rude fire- 
place having been made in one corner, the smoke from which 
has discoloured the walls and almost obliterated the- ancient 
arabesques. A window with a balcony overhanging the bal- 
cony of the Darro, lets in the cool evening breeze, and here I 
take my frugal supper of fruit and milk, and mingle with the 
conversation of the family. There is a natural talent, or mother 
wit, as it is called, about the Spaniards, which renders them 
intellectual and agreeable companions, whatever may be their 
condition in life, or however imperfect may have been their 
education ; add to this, they are never vulgar ; nature has en- 
dowed them with an inherent dignity of spirit. The good Tia 
Antonia is a woman of strong and intelligent, though unculti- 



38 THE ALUAMBRA. 

vated mind, and the bright-eyed Dolores, though she has read 
but three or four hooks in the whole course of her life, has an 
engaging mixture of naivete and good sense, and often sur- 
prises me by the pungency of her artless sallies. Sometimes 
the nephew entertains us by reading some old comedy of Cal- 
deron or Lope de Vega, to which he is evidently prompted by 
a desire to improve as well as amuse his cousin Dolores, though 
to his great mortification the little damsel generally falls asleep 
before the first act is completed. Sometimes Tia Antonia has 
a little bevy of humble friends and dependants, the inhabitants 
of the adjacent hamlet, or the wives of the invalid soldiers. 
These look up to her with great deference as the custodian of 
the palace, and pay their court to her by bringing the news of 
the place, or the rumours that may have straggled up from 
Granada. In listening to the evening gossipings, I have picked 
up many curious facts, illustrative of the manners of the people 
and the peculiarities of the neighbourhood. 

These are simple details of simple pleasures ; it is the nature 
of the place alone that gives them interest and importance. I 
tread haunted ground and am surrounded by romantic asso- 
ciations. From earliest boyhood, when, on the banks of the 
Hudson, I first pored over the pages of an old Spanish story 
about the wars of Granada, that city has ever been a subject 
of my waking dreams, and often have I trod in fancy the 
romantic halls of the Alhambra. Behold for once a day-dream 
realized ; yet I can scarcely credit my senses or beheve that I 
do indeed inhabit the palace of Boabdil, and look down from 
its balconies upon chivalric Granada. As I loiter through the 
oriental chambers, and hear the murmuring of fountains and 
the song of the nightingale : as I inhale the odour of the rose 
and feel the influence of the balmy climate, I am almost 
tempted to fancy myself in the Paradise of Mahomet, and that 
the plump little Dolores is one of the bright-eyed Houris, des- 
tined to administer to the happiness of true believers. 



THE TEUANT. 



Since writing the foregoing pages, we have had a scene of 
petty tribulation in the Alhambra which has thrown a cloud 
over the sunny countenance of Dolores. This little damsel has 



THE TRUAjST. 3.) 

i\ female passion for pets of all kinds, from the superabundant 
Lindness of her disposition. One of the ruined courts of the 
Alhambra is thronged with her favourites. A stately peacock 
and his hen seem to hold regal sway here, over pompous tur- 
keys, querulous guinea fowls, and a rabble rout of common 
cocks and hens. The great delight of Dolores, however, has 
for some time past been centred in a youthful pair of pigeons, 
who have lately entered into the holy state of wedlock, and 
who have even supplanted a tortoise shell cat and kitten in her 
affections. 

As a tenement for them to commence housekeeping she had 
fitted up a small chamber adjacent to the kitchen, the window 
of which looked into one of the quiet Moorish courts. Here 
they lived in happy ignorance of any world beyond the court 
and its sunny roofs. In vain they aspired to soar above the 
battlements, or to mount to the summit of the towers. Their 
virtuous union was at length crowned by two spotless and 
milk white eggs, to the great joy of their cherishing little mis- 
tress. Nothing could be more praiseworthy than the conduct 
of the young married folks on this interesting occasion. They 
took turns to sit upon the nest until the eggs were hatched, 
and while their callow progeny required warmth and shelter. 
While one thus stayed at home, the other foraged abroad for 
food, and brought home abundant supplies. 

This scene of conjugal felicity ha^ suddenly met with a re- 
verse. Early this morning, as Dolores was feeding the male 
pigeon, she took a fancy to give him a peep at the great world. 
Opening a mndow, therefore, which looks down upon the val- 
ley of the Darro, she launched him at once beyond the walls of 
the Alhambra. For the first time in his life the astonished 
bird had to try the full vigour of his wings. He swept down 
into the valley, and then rising upwards with a surge, soared 
almost to the clouds. Never before haa he risen to such a 
height or experienced such delight in flying, and like a young 
spendthrift, just come to his estate, he seemed giddy with 
excess of liberty, and with the boundless field of action sud- 
denly opened to him. For the whole day he has been circling 
about in capricious flights, from tower to tower and from tree 
to tree. Every attempt has been made in vain to lure him 
back, by scattering grain upon the roofs ; he seems to have lost 
all thought of home, of his tender helpmate and his callow 
young. To add to the anxiety of Dolores, he has been joined 
by two palomas ladrones, or robber pigeons, whose instinct it 



40 THE ALHAMBRA. 

is to entice wandering pigeons to their own dove-cotes. The 
fugitive, Hke many other thoughtless youths on their first 
launching upon the world, seems quite fascinated with these 
knowing, but graceless, companions, who have undertaken to 
show him life and introduce him to society. He has been 
soaring with them over all the roofs and steeples of Granada. 
A thunder shower has passed over the city, but he has not 
sought liis home ; night has closed in, and still he comes not. 
To deepen the pathos of the affair, the female pigeon, after 
remaining several hours on the nest without being relieved, at 
length went forth to seek her recreant mate ; but stayed away 
so long that the young ones perished for want of the warmth 
and shelter of the parent bosom. 

At a late hour in the evening, word was brought to Dolores 
that the truant bird had been seen upon the towers of the Gen- 
eraliffe. Now, it so happens that the Administrador of that 
ancient palace has likewise a dove-cote, among the inmates of 
which are said to be two or three of these inveigling birds, the 
terror of all neighbouring pigeon fanciers. Dolores immedi- 
ately concluded that the two feathered sharpers who had been 
seen with her fugitive, were these bloods of the Generaliffe. A 
council of war Avas forthwith held in the chamber of Tia An- 
tonia. The Generaliffe is a distinct jurisdiction from the 
Alhambra, and of cou^^se some punctilio, if not jealousy, exists 
between their custodians. It was determined, therefore, to 
send Pepe, the stuttering lad of the gardens, as ambassador to 
the Administrador, requesting that if such fugitive should be 
found in his dominions, he might be given up as a subject of 
the Alhambra. Pepe departed, accordingly, on his diplomatic 
expedition, through the moonlit groves and avenues, but 
returned in an hour with the afflicting intelligence that no 
such bird was to be found in the dove-cote of the Generaliffe. 
The Administrador, however, pledged his sovereign word, that 
if such vagrant should appear there, even at midnight, he 
should instantly be arrested and sent back prisoner to his little 
black-eyed mistress. 

Thus stands this melancholy affair, which has occasioned 
much distress throughout the palace, and has sent the incon- 
solable Dolores to a sleepless pillow. 

'' Sorrow endureth for a night," says the proverb, "but joy 
ariseth in the morning." The first object that met my eyes on 
leaving my room this morning was Dolores with the truant 
pigeon in her hand, and her eyes sparkling with joy. He had 



THE AUTHORS CHAMBER. 41 

appeared at an early hour on the battlements, hovering shyly 
about from roof to roof, but at length entered the window and 
surrendered himself prisoner. He gained little credit, how- 
ever, by his return, for the ravenous manner in which he 
devoured the food set before him, showed that, like the prodi- 
gal son, he had been driven home by sheer famine. Dolores 
upbraided him for his faithless conduct, calling him all manner 
of vagrant names, though woman-hke, she fondled him at the 
same time to her bosom and covered him with kisses. I ob- 
served, however, that she had taken care to clip his wings to 
prevent all future soarings ; a precaution which I mention for 
the benefit of all those who have truant wdves or wandering 
husbands. More than one valuable moral might be drawn 
from the story of Dolores and her pigeon. 



THE AUTHOR'S CHAMBER 

On taking up my abode in the Alhambra, one end of a suite 
of empty chambers of modern architecture, intended for the 
residence of the governor, was fitted up for my reception. It 
was in front of the palace, looking forth upon the esplanade. 
The farther end communiated with a cluster of little chambers, 
partly Moorish, partly modern, inhabited by Tia Antonia and 
her family. These terminated in a large room which serves 
the good old dame for parlour, kitchen, and hall of audience. 
It had boasted of some splendour in the time of the Moors, but 
a fire-place had been built in one corner, the smoke from which 
had discoloured the walls, nearly obliterated the ornaments, 
and spread a sombre tint over the whole. From these gloomy 
apartments, a narrow blind corridor and a dark winding 
staircase led down an angle of the tower of Comares ; groping 
down which, and opening a small door at the bottom, you are 
suddenly dazzled by emerging into the brilliant antechamber 
of the hall of ambassadors, with the fountain of the court of 
the Alberca sparkling before you. 

I was dissatisfied with being lodged in a modern and frontier 
apartment of the palace, and longed to ensconce myself in the 
very heart of the building. 

As I was rambling one day about the Moorish halls, I found, 
in a remote gallery, a door which I had not before noticed, 



42 THE A LEA M BR A. 

communicating apparently Avith an extensive apartment, 
locked up from the public. Here then was a mystery. Here 
was the haunted wing of the castle. I procured the key, how- 
ever, without difficulty. The door opened to a range of vacant 
chambers of European architecture; though built over a 
Moorish arcade, along the little garden of Lindaraxa. There 
were two lofty rooms, the ceilings of which were of deep panel- 
work of cedar, richly and skilfully carved with fruits and 
flowers, intermingled with grotesque masks or faces; but 
broken in many places. The walls had evidently, in ancient 
times, been hung with damask, but were now naked, and 
scrawled over with the insignificant names of aspiring travel- 
lers ; the windows, which were dismantled and open to wind 
and weather, looked into the garden of Lindaraxa, and the 
orange and citron trees flung their branches into the chambers. 
Beyond these rooms were two saloons, less lofty, looking also 
into the garden. In the compartments of the panelled cefling 
were baskets of fruit and garlands of flowers, painted by no 
mean hand, and in tolerable preservation. The walls had also 
been painted in fresco in the Italian style, but the paintings 
were nearly obliterated. The Avindows were in the same 
shattered state as in the other chambers. 

This fanciful suite of rooms terminated in an open gallery 
with balustrades, which ran at right angles along another side 
of the garden. The whole apartment had a delicacy and 
elegance in its decorations and there was something so choice 
and sequestered in its situation, along this retired little garden, 
that awakened an interest in its history. I found, on inquiry, 
that it was an apartment fltted up by Italian artists, in the 
early part of the last century, at the time when Philip V. and 
the beautiful Elizabetta of Parma were expectjd at the 
Alhambra ; and was destined for the queen and the ladies of 
her train. One of the loftiest chambers had been her sleeping 
room, and a narrow staircase leading from it, though now 
walled up, opened to the delightful belvedere, originally a 
mirador of the Moorish sultanas, but fitted up as a boudoir for 
the fair Elizabetta, and which still retains the name of the 
Tocador, or toilette of the queen. The sleeping room I have 
mentioned, commanded from one window a prospect of the 
Generaliffe, and its embowered terraces; under another win- 
dow played the alabaster fountain of the garden of Lindaraxa. 
That garden carried my thoughts still farther back, to the 
period of another reign of beauty ; to the days of the I^toorish 



THE AUTHOR >i CHAMBER. 43 

sultanas. "How beauteous is this garden!" says an Arabic 
inscription, " where the flowers of the earth vie with the stars 
of heaven ! what can compare with the vase of yon alabaster 
fountain filled with crystal water? Nothing but the moon in 
her fulness, shining in the midst of an unclouded sky!" 

Centuries had elapsed, yet how much of tliis scene of appa- 
rently fragile beauty remained ! The garden of Lindaraxa was 
still adorned with flowers; the fountain still presented its 
crystal mirror : it is true, the alabaster had lost its whiteness, 
and the basin beneath, overrun with weeds, had become the 
nestling place of the hzard; but there was something in the 
very decay that enhanced the interest of the scene, speaking, 
as it did, of that mutabOity which is the irrevocable lot of man 
and all his works. The desolation, too, of these chambers, once 
the abode of the proud and elegant Elizabetta, had a more 
touching charm for me than if I had beheld them in their 
pristine splendour, glittering with the pageantry of a court — I 
determined at once to take up my quarters in tliis apartment. 

My determination excited great surprise in the family ; who 
could not imagine any rational inducement for the choice of 
so solitary, remote and forlorn an apartment. The good Tia 
Antonia considered it highly dangerous. The neighbourhood, 
she said, was infested by vagrants ; the caverns of the adjacent 
hills swarmed with gipsies ; the palace was ruinous and easy 
to be entered in many parts; and the rumour of a stranger 
quartered alone in one of the ruined apartments, out of the 
hearing of the rest of the inhabitants, might tempt unwelcome 
visitors in the night, especially as foreigners are always sup- 
posed to be well stocked with money. Dolores represented the 
frightful loneliness of the place; nothing but bats and owls 
flitting about ; then there were a fox and a wild cat that kept 
about the vaults and roamed about at night, 

I was not to be diverted from my humour, so calling in 
the assistance of a carpenter, and the ever ofiicious Mateo 
Ximenes, the doors and windows were soon placed in a state 
of tolerable security. 

With all these precautions, I must confess the first night I 
passed in these quarters was inexpressibly dreary. I was 
escorted by the whole family to my chamber, and there taking 
leave of me, and retiring along the waste antechamber and 
echoing galleries, reminded me of those hobgobHn stories, 
where the hero is left to accomplish the adventure of a 
haunted house. 



44 THE ALHAMBRA. 

Soon the thoughts of the fair EHzabetta and the beauties of 
her court, who had once graced these chambers, now by a per- 
version of fancy added to the gloom. Here was the scene of 
their transient gaiety and lovehness ; here were the very traces 
of their elegance and enjoyment; but what and where were 
they?— Dust and ashes! tenants of the tomb! phantoms of the 
memory ! 

A vague and indescribable awe was creeping over me. I 
would fain have ascribed it to the thoughts of robbers, awakened 
by the evening's conversation, but I felt that it was something 
more unusual and absurd. In a word, the long buried impres- 
sions of the nursery were reviving and asserting their power 
over my imagination. Every thing began to be affected by 
the workings of my mind. The whispering of the wind among 
the citron trees beneath my window had something sinister. I 
cast my eyes into the garden of Lindaraxa ; the groves present- 
ed a gulf of shadows ; the thickets had indistinct and ghastly 
shapes. I was glad to close the window ; but my chamber it- 
self became infected. A bat had found its way in, and flitted 
about my head and athwart my solitary lamp ; the grotesque 
faces carved in the cedar ceiling seemed to mope and mow at 
me. 

Eousing myself, and half smiling at this temporary weak- 
ness, I resolved to brave it, and, taking lamp in hand, sallied 
forth to make a tour of the ancient palace. Notwithstanding 
every mental exertion, the task was a severe one. The rays 
of my lamp extended to but a limited distance around me ; I 
walked as it were in a mere halo of light, and all beyond 
was thick darkness. The vaulted corridors were as caverns ; 
the vaults of the halls were lost in gloom; what unseen foe 
might not be lurking before or behind me; my own shadow 
playing about the walls, and the echoes of my own footsteps 
disturbed me. 

In this excited state, as I was traversing the great Hall of 
Ambassadors, there were added real sounds to these conjectural 
fancies. Low moans and indistinct ejaculations seemed to rise 
as it were from beneath my feet ; I paused and listened. They 
then appeared to resound from without the tower. Sometimes 
they resembled the bowlings of an animal, at others they were 
stifled shrieks, mingled with articulate ravings. The thrilling 
effect of these sounds in that stiU hour and singular place, de- 
stroyed all inchnation to continue my lonely perambulation. 
I returned to my chamber with more alacrity than I had salHed 



THE ALHAMBRA BT MOONLIGHT. 45 

forth, and drew my breath more freely when once more within 
its walls, and the door bolted behind me. 

When I awoke in the morning, with the sun shining in at my 
window, and lighting up every part of the building with its 
cheerful and truth-telling beams, I could scarcely recall the 
sliadows and fancies conjured up by the gloom of the preceding 
night ; or believe that the scenes around me, so naked and ap- 
parent, could have been clothed with such imaginary horrors. 

Still the dismal bowlings and ejaculations I had heard were 
not ideal ; but they were soon accounted for, by my handmaid 
Dolores ; bemg the ravings of a poor maniac, a brother of her 
aunt, who was subject to violent paroxysms, during wliich he 
was confined in a vaulted room beneath the Hall of Ambas- 
sadors. 



THE ALHAMBRA BY MOONLIGHT. 

I HAVE given a picture of my apartment on my first taking 
possession of it; a few evenings have produced a thorough 
change in the scene and in my feelings. The moon, which then 
was invisible, has gradually gained upon the nights, and now 
rolls in full splendour above the towers, pouring a flood of 
tempered light into every court and hall. The garden beneath 
my window is gently lighted up ; the orange and citron trees 
are tipped with silver; the fountain sparkles in the moon 
beams, and even the blush of the rose is faintly visible. 

I have sat for hours at my window inhahng the sweetness of 
the garden, and musing on the chequered features of those 
whose history is dimly shadowed out in the elegant memorials 
around . Sometimes I have issued forth at midnight when every 
thing was quiet, and have wandered over the whole building. 
Who can do justice to a moordight night in such a climate, 
and in such a place ! The temperature of an Andalusian mid- 
night, in summer, is perfectly ethereal. We seem lifted up 
into a purer atmosphere ; there is a serenity of soul, a buoyancy 
of spirits, an elasticity of frame that render mere existence 
enjoyment. The effect of moonlight, too, on the Alhambra has 
something like enchantment. Every rent and chasm of time, 
every mouldering tint and weather stain disappears ; the mar- 
ble resumes its original whiteness ; the long colonnades brighten 
in the moon beams ; the halls are illuminated with a softened 



46 THE ALHAMBRA. 

radiance, until the whole edifice reminds one of the enchanted 
palace of an Arabian tale. 

At such time I have ascended to the httle paviHon, called the 
Queen's ToHette, to enjoy its varied and extensive prospect 
To the right, the snowy summits of the Sierra Nevada would 
gleam like sUver clouds against the darker firmament and all 
the outlines of the mountain would be softened, yet dehcately 
defined. My delight, however, would be to lean over the para- 
pet of the tocador, and gaze down upon Granada, spread out 
hke a map below me: all buried in deep repose, and its white 
palaces and convents sleeping as it were in the moonshine 

Sometimes I would hear the faint sounds of castanets from 
some party of dancers fingering in the Alameda; at other times 
I have heard the dubious tones of a g-uitar, and the uotes of a 
single voice rising from some sofitary street, and have pictured 
to myself some youthful cavalier serenading his lady's window • 
a gallant custom of former days, but now sadly on the decline 
except m the remote towns and viUages of Spain. 

Such are the scenes that have detained me for many an hour 
loitering about the coui'ts and balconies of the castle, enjoying 
that mixture of reverie and sensation which steal away exist- 
ence m a southern climate— and it has been almost morning be- 
fore I have retired to my bed. and been lulled to sleep by the 
falhng waters of the fountain of Lindaraxa. 



INHABITANTS OF THE ALHf^MBEA. 

I HAVE often observed that the more proudly a mansion has 
been tenanted in the day of its prosperity, the humbler are its 
inhabitants m the day of its dechne, and that the palace of the 
king commonly ends in being the nestling place of the beggar. 

The Alhambra is in a rapid state of similar transition: 
whenever a tower falls to decay, it is seized upon by some 
tatterdemahon family, who become joint tenants with the 
bats and owls of its gilded halls, and hang their rags, those 
standards of poverty, out of its windows and loop-holes. 

I have amused myself with remarking some of the motley 
characters that have thus usurped the ancient abode of 
royalty, and who seem as if placed here to give a farcical 
termination to the drama of human pride. One of these 



INHABITANTS OF THE ALHAMBRA. 47 

even bears the mockery of a royal title. It is a little old 
woman named Maria Antonia Sabonea, but who goes by 
the appellation of la Reyna Cuquina, or the cockle queen. 
She is small enough to be a fairy, and a fairy she may be 
for aught I can find out, for no one seems to know her 
origin. Her habitation is a kind of closet under the outer 
staircase of the palace, and she sits in the cool stone corri- 
dor plying her needle and singing from morning till night, 
with a ready joke for every one that passes, for though 
one of the poorest, she is one of the merriest little women 
breathing. Her great merit is a gift for story-telling; having, 
I verily believe, as many stories at her command as the inex- 
haustible Scheherezade of the thousand and one nights. Some 
of these I have heard her relate in the evening tertulias of 
Dona Antonia, at which she is occasionally an humble attend- 
ant. 

That there must be some fairy gift about this mysterious 
little old woman, would appear from her extraordinary luck, 
since, notwithstanding her being very Kttle, very ugly, and 
very poor, she has had, according to her own account, five 
husbands and a half; reckoning as a half, one, a young 
dragoon who died during courtship. 

A rival personage to this little fairy queen is a portly old 
fellow with a bottle nose, who goes about in a rusty garb, 
with a cocked hat of oil skin and a red cockade. He is one of 
the legitimate sons of the Alhambra, and has lived here ail 
his life, filling various offices ; such as Deputy Alguazil, sexton 
of the parochial church, and marker of a fives court estab- 
lished at the foot of one of the towers. He is as poor as a rat, 
but as proud as he is ra.gged, boasting of his descent from the 
illustrious house of Aguilar, from which sprang Gonsalvo of 
Cordova, the Grand Captain. Nay, he actually bears the name 
of Alonzo de Aguilar, so renowned in the history of the con- 
quest, though the graceless wags of the fortress have given 
liim the title of el Padre Santo, or the Holy Father, the usual 
g^pellation of the pope, which I had thought too sacred in the 
eyes of true catholics to be thus ludicrously apphed. It is a, 
whimsical caprice of fortune, to present in the gi'otesque 
person of this tatterdemalion a namesake and descendant 
of the proud Alonzo de Aguilar, the mirror of Andalusian 
chivalry, leading an almosi". mendicant existence about this 
once haughty fortress, which his ancestor aided to reduce; 
yet such might have been the lot of the descendants of Ago..- 



48 THE ALHAMBBA. 

memnon and Achilles, had they Imgered about the ruins of 

Troy. 

Of this motley community I find the family of my gossiping 
squire Mateo Ximenes to form, from their numbers at least, a 
very important part. His boast of being a son of the Alhambra 
is not unfounded. This family has inhabited the fortress ever 
since the time of the conquest, handing down a hereditary 
poverty from father to son, not one of them having ever been 
known to be worth a marevedi. His father, by trade a riband 
weaver, and who succeeded the historical tailor as the head of 
the family, is now near seventy years of age, and lives in a 
hovel of reeds and plaster, built by his own hands, just above 
the ii'on gate. The furniture consists of a crazy bed, a table, 
and two or three chairs; a wooden chest, containing his 
clothes, and the archives of his family; that is to say, a 
few papers concerning old law-suits which he cannot read; 
but the pride of his heart is a blazon of the arms of the family, 
brilliantly coloured and suspended in a frame against the wall, 
clearly demonstrating by its quarterings the various noble 
houses with which this poverty-stricken brood claim affinity. 

As to Mateo himself, he has done his utmost to perpetuate 
his line ; having a wife, and a numerous progeny who inhabit 
an almost dismantled hovel in the hamlet. How they manage 
to subsist. He only who sees into all mysteries can tell — the 
subsistence of a Spanish family of the kind is always a riddle 
to me ; yet they do subsist, and, what is more, appear to enjoy 
their existence. The wife takes her holyday stroll in the Paseo 
of Granada, with a child in her arms, and half a dozen at her 
heels, and the eldest daughter, now verging into womanhood, 
dresses her hair with flowers, and dances gaily to the cas- 
tanets. 

There are two classes of people to whom life seems one long 
holyday, the very rich and the very poor; one because they 
need do nothing, the other because they have nothing to do ; 
but there are none who understand the art of doing nothing 
and living upon nothing better than the poor classes of Spain. 
Climate does one half and temperament the rest. Give a 
Spaniard the shade in summer, and the sun in winter, a little 
bread, garlic, oil and garbanzos, an old brown cloak and a 
guitar, and let the world roll on as it pleases. Talk of poverty, 
with him it has no disgrace. It sits upon him with a gran- 
diose style, like his ragged cloak. He is a hidalgo even when 
in rags. 



THE BALCONY. 49 

The "Sons of the Alhambra" are an eminent illustration of 
this practical philosophy. As the Moors imagined that the 
celestial paradise hung over this favoured spot, so I am in- 
chned, at times, to fancy that a gleam of the golden age stiU 
lingers about this ragged community. They possess nothing, 
they do nothing, they care for nothing. Yet, though ap- 
parently idle aU the week, they are as observant of aU holy- 
days and saints' days as the most laborious artisan. They 
attend aU fetes and dancings in Granada and its vicinity, 
light bon-fires on the hills on St. John's eve, and have lately 
danced away the moonlight nights, on the harvest home of 
a small field of wheat within the precmcts of the fortress. 

Before concluding these remarks I must mention one of the 
amusements of the place which has particularly struck me. I 
had repeatedly observed a long, lean feUow perched on the top 
of one of the towers manoeuvring two or three fishing rods, as 
though he was angling for the stars. I was for some time per- 
plexed by the evolutions of tliis aerial fisherman, and my per- 
plexity increased on observing others employed in like manner, 
on different parts of the battlements and bastions ; it was not 
until I consulted Mateo Ximenes that I solved the mystery. 

It seems that the pure and airy situation of this fortress has 
rendered it, like the castle of Macbeth, a prolific breeding-place 
for swallows and martlets, who sport about its towers in 
myriads, with the holyday glee of urchins just let loose 
from school. To entrap these birds in their giddy circlings, 
with hooks baited with flies, is one of the favourite amuse- 
ments of the ragged "Sons of the Alhambra," who, with the 
good-for-nothing ingenuity of arrant idlers, have thus invented 
the art of angling in the sky. 



THE BALCONY 



Ik the Hall of Ambassadors, at the central window, there is 
a balcony of which I have already made mention. It projects 
like a cage from the face of the tower, high in mid-air, above 
the tops of the trees that grow on the steep hill-side. It an- 
swers me as a kind of observatory, where I often take my seat 
to consider, not merely the heavens above, but the "earth 
beneath." Beside the magnificent prospect which it commands, 
of mountain, valley, and Vega, there is a busy little scene of 



50 THE ALHAMBRA. 

human life laid open to inspection immediately below. At the 
foot of the hill is an alameda or public walk, which, though not 
so fashionable as the more modern and splendid paseo of the 
Xenil, still boasts a varied and picturesque concourse, especially 
on holydays and Sundays. Hither resort the small gentry of 
the suburbs, together with priests and friars who walk for appe- 
tite and digestion ; majos and majas, the beaux and belles of the 
lower classes in their Andalusian dresses ; swagging contraban- 
distas, and sometimes half -muffled and mysterious loungers of 
the higher ranks, on some silent assignation. 

It is a moving picture of Spanish life which I delight to 
study ; and as the naturalist has his microscope to assist him 
in his curious investigations, so I have a small pocket telescope 
which brings the countenances of the motley groups so close as 
almost at times to make me think I can divine their conversa- 
tion by the play and expression of their features. I am thus, 
in a manner, an invisible observer, and without quitting my 
solitude, can throw myself in an instant into the midst of 
society— a rare advantage to one of somewhat shy and quiet 
habits. 

Then there is a considerable suburb lying below the Alham- 
bra, filling the narrow gorge of the valley, and extending up 
the opposite liill of the Albaycin. Many of the houses are 
built in the Moorish style, round patios or courts cooled by 
fountains and open to the sky ; and as the inhabitants pass 
much of their time in these courts and on the terraced roofs 
during the summer season, it follows that many a glance at 
their domestic life may be obtained by an aerial spectator like 
myself, who can look down on them from the clouds. 

I enjoy, in some degree, the advantages of the student in the 
famous old Spanish story, who beheld all Madrid unroofed for 
his inspection ; and my gossipping squire Mateo Ximenes offi- 
ciates occasionally as my Asmodeus, to give me anecdotes of 
the different mansions and their inhabitants. 

I prefer, however, to form conjectural histories for myself; 
and thus can sit up aloft for hours, weaving from casual inci- 
dents and indications that pass under my eye, the whole tissue 
of schemes, intrigues and occupations, carrying on by certain 
of the busy mortals below us. There is scarce a pretty face or 
striking figure* that I daily see, about which I have not thus 
gradually framed a dramatic story; though some of my 
characters will occassionally act in direct opposition to the 
part assigned them, and disconcert my whole drama. 



THE BALCONY. 51 

A few days since as I was reconnoitring with my glass the 
streets of the Albaycin, I beheld the procession of a novice 
about to take the veil ; and remarked various circumstances 
that excited the strongest sympathy in the fate of the youth- 
ful being thus about to be consigned to a living tomb. I ascer- 
tained, to my satisfaction, that she was beautiful ; and, by the 
paleness of her cheek, that she was a victim, rather than a 
votary. She was arrayed in bridal garments, and decked 
with a chaplet of white flowers ; but her heart evidently re- 
volted at this mockery of a spiritual union, and yearned after 
its earthly loves. A tall stern-looking man walked near her 
in the procession ; it was evidently the tyrannical father, who, 
from some bigoted or sordid motive, had compelled this sacrifice. 
Amidst the crowd was a dark, handsome youth, in Andalusian 
garb, who seemed to fix on her an eye of agony. It was doubt- 
less the secret lover from whom she was for ever to be sepa- 
rated. My indignation rose as I noted the malignant exulta- 
tion painted in the countenances of the attendant monks and 
friars. The procession arrived at the chapel of the convent ; the 
sun gleamed for the last time upon the chaplet of the poor novice 
as she crossed the fatal threshold and disappeared from sight. 
The throng poured in with cowl and cross and minstrelsy. The 
lover paused for a moment at the door; I could understand 
the tumult of his feelings, but he mastered them and entered. 
There was a long interval — I pictured to myself the scene pass- 
ing within. — The poor novice despoiled of her transient finery 
— clothed in the conventual garb; the bridal chaplet taken 
from her brow; her beautiful head shorn of its long silken 
tresses — I heard her murmur the irrevocable vow — I saw her 
extended on her bier ; the death pall spread over ; the funeral 
service performed that proclaimed her dead to the world ; her 
sighs were drowned in the waihng anthem of the nuns and the 
sepulchral tones of the organ — the father looked, unmoved, 
without a tear — the lover — no— my fancy refused to portray 
the anguish of the lover — there the picture remained a blank. 
—The ceremony was over : the crowd again issued forth to be- 
hold the day and mingle in the joyous stir of life — but the 
victim with her bridal chaplet was no longer there — the door of 
the convent closed that secured her from the world for ever. 
I saw the father and the lover issue forth— they were in ear- 
nest conversation — the young man was violent in his gestures, 
when the wall of a house intervened and shut them from mv 
cifirht. 



52 THE ALHAMBRA. 

That evening I noticed a solitary light twinkling from a re- 
mote lattice of the convent. There, said I, the unhappy novice 
sits weeping in her cell, while her lover paces the street below 
in unavailing anguish. 

—The officious Mateo interrupted my meditations and de= 
stroyed, in an instant, the cobweb tissue of my fancy. With 
his usual zeal he had gathered facts concerning the scene that 
had interested me. The heroine of my romance was neither 
young nor handsome— she had no lover— she had entered the 
convent of her own free will, as a respectable asylum, and was 
one of the cheerf ulest residents within its walls ! 

I felt at first half vezed with the nun for being thus happy 
in her cell, in contradiction to all the rules of romance ; but 
diverted my spleen by watching, for a day or two, the pretty 
coquetries of a dark-eyed brunette, who, from the covert of a 
balcony shrouded with flowering shrubs and a silken awning, 
was carrying on a mysterious correspondence with a hand- 
some, dark, well- whiskered cavalier in the street beneath her 
window. Sometimes I saw him at an early hour, stealing 
forth, wrapped to the eyes in a mantle. Sometimes he loitered 
at the comer, in various disguises, apparently waiting for a 
private signal to slip into the bower. Then there was a tink- 
ling of a guitar at night, and a lantern shifted from place to 
place in the balcony. I imagined another romantic intrigue like 
that of Almaviva, but was again disconcerted in all my suppo- 
sitions by being informed that the supposed lover was the 
husband of the lady, and a noted contrabandista, and that all 
his mysterious signs and movements had doubtless some smug- 
gling scheme in view. 

Scarce had the gray dawn streaked the sky and the earliest 
cock crowed from the cottages of the hill-side, when the 
suburbs gave sign of reviving animation ; for the fresh hours 
of dawning are precious in the summer season in a sultry 
cUmate. All are anxious to get the start of the sun in the 
business of the day. The muleteer drives forth his loaded 
train for the journey ; the traveller slings his carbine behind 
his saddle and mounts his steed at the gate of the hostel. The 
*orown peasant urges his loitering donkeys, laden with pan- 
niers of sunny fruit and fresh dewy vegetables ; for already 
the thrifty housewives are hastening to the market. 

The sun is up and sparkles along the valley, topping the 
transparent foliage of the groves. The matin bells resound 
melodiously through the pure bright air, announcing the hour 



THE BALCONY. 53 

of devotion. The muleteer halts his burdened animals before 
the chapel, thrusts his staff through his belt behind, and 
enters with hat in hand, smoothing his coal black hair, to 
hear a mass and put up a prayer for a prosperous wayfaring 
across the Sierra. 

And now steals forth with fairy foot the gentle Seaora, in 
trim busquina ; with restless fan in hand and dark eye flash- 
ing from beneath her gracefully folded mantilla. She seeks 
some well f i-equented church to offer up her orisons ; but the 
nicely adjusted dress ; the dainty shoe and cobweb stocking ; 
the raven tresses scrupulously braided, the fresh plucked rose 
that gleams among them like a gem, show that earth divides 
with heaven the empire of her thoughts. 

As the morning advances, the din of labour augments on 
every side ; the streets are thronged with man and steed, and 
beast of burden ; the universal movement produces a hum and 
murmur like the surges of the ocean. As the sun ascends to 
his meridian the hum and bustle gradually decline; at the 
height of noon there is a pause ; the panting city sinks into 
lassitude, and for several hours there is a general repose. 
The windows are closed ; the curtains drawn ; the inhabitants 
retired into the coolest recesses of their mansions. The full- 
fed monk snores in his dormitory. The brawny porter lies 
stretched on the pavement beside his burden. The peasant 
and the labourer sleep beneath the trees of the Alameda, 
lulled by the sultry chirping of the locust. The streets are 
deserted except by the water carrier, who refreshes the ear by 
proclaiming the merits of Ms sparkling beverage,— "Colder 
than mountain snow." 

As the sun declines, there is again a gradual reviving, and 
wnen the vesper beU rings out his sinking knell, aU nature 
seems to rejoice that the tyrant of the day has faUen. 

Now begins the bustle of enjoyment. The citizens pour 
forth to breathe the evening air, and revel away the brief 
twilight in the walks and gardens of the Darro and the Xenil. 

As the night closes, the motley scene assumes new features. 
Light after light gradually twinkles forth ; here a taper from 
a balconied window ; there a votive lamp before the image of 
a saint. Thus by degrees the city emerges from the pervading 
gloom, and sparkles with scattered lights like the starry 
firmament. Now break forth from court, and garden, and 
street, and lane, the tinkling of innumerable guitars and the 
clicking of castanets, blending at this lofty height, in a faint 



54 THE ALHAMBRA. 

and general concert. "Enjoy the moment," is the creed of 
the gay and amorous Andalusian, and at no time does he 
practise it more zealously than in the balmy nights of sum- 
mer, wooing his mistress with the dance, the love ditty and 
the passionate serenade. 

I was seated one evening in the balcony enjoying the light 
breeze that came rusthng along the side of the hill among the 
tree-tops, when my humble historiographer, Mateo, who was 
at my elbow, pointed out a spacious house in an obscure street 
of the Albaycin, about which he related, as nearly as I can 
recoUect, the following anecdote. 



THE ADVENTURE OF THE MASON. 

There was once upon a time a poor mason, or bricklayer, in 
Granada, who kept aU the saints' days and holydays, and saint 
Monday into the bargain, and yet, with aU his devotion, he 
grew poorer and poorer, and could scarcely earn bread for his 
numerous family. One night he was roused from his first 
sleep by a knocking at liis door. He opened it and beheld 
before him a tall, meagre, cadaverous-looking priest. "Hark 
ye, honest friend," said the stranger, "I have observed that 
you are a good Christian, and one to be trusted; will you 
undertake a job this very night?" 

"With all my heart, Senor Padre, on condition that I am 
paid accordingly." 

"That you shall be, but you must suffer yourself to be 
blindfolded." 

To this the mason made no objection; so being hoodwinked, 
he was led by the priest through various rough lanes and 
winding passages until they stopped before the portal of a 
houso. The priest then applied a key, turned a creaking lock 
and opened what sounded like a ponderous door. They en- 
tered, the door was closed and bolted, and the mason was 
conducted through an echoing corridor and spacioLis hall, to 
an interior part of the building. Here the bandage was re- 
moved from his eyes, and he found himself in a patio, or 
court, dimly lighted by a single lamp. 

In the centre was a dry basin of an old Moorish fountain, 
under which the priest requested him to form a small vauli, 
bricks and mortar being at hand for the purpose. He accord' 



THE ADVENTURE OF THE MASON. 55 

ingly worked all night, but without finishing the job. Just 
before daybreak the priest put a piece of gold into his hand, 
and having again blindfolded him, conducted him back to his 
dwelling. 

"Are you willing," said he, "to return and complete your 
work?" 

"Gladly, Senor Padre, provided I am as well paid." 

" Well, then, to-morrow at midnight I will call again." 

He did so, and the vault was completed. " Now," said the 
priest, ' ' you must help me to bring forth the bodies that are to 
be buried in this vault." 

The poor mason's hair rose on his head at these words ; he 
followed the priest with trembling steps, mto a retired cham- 
ber of the mansion, expecting to behold some ghastly spectacle 
of death, but was relieved, on perceiving three or four portly 
jars standing in one corner. They were evidently full of 
money, and it was with great labour that he and the priest 
carried them forth and consigned them to their tomb. The 
vault was then closed, the pavement replaced and all traces 
of the work obliterated. 

The mason was again hoodwinked and led forth by a route 
different from that by which he had come. After they had 
wandered for a long time through a perplexed maze of lanes 
and alleys, they halted. The priest then put two pieces of gold 
into his hand. "Wait here," said he, "until you hear the 
cathedral bell toll for matins. If you presume to uncover 
your eyes before that time, evil will befall you." So saying 
he departed. 

The mason waited faithfully, amusing himself by weighing 
the gold pieces in his hand and clinking them against each 
other. The moment the cathedral bell rung its matin peal, he 
imcovered his eyes and found himself on the banl^s of the 
Xenil ; from whence he made the best of his way home, and 
revelled with his family for a whole fortnight on the profits of 
his two nights' work, after which he was as poor as ever. 

He continued to work a little and pray a good deal, and 
keep holydays and saints' days from year to year, while his 
family grew up as gaunt and ragged as a crew of gipsies. 

As he was seated one morning at the door of his hovel, he 
was accosted by a rich old curmudgeon who was noted for 
owning many houses and being a griping landlord. 

The man of money eyed him for a moment, from beneath a 
pair of shagged eyebrows. 



56 THE ALHAMPUA. 

" I am told, friend, that you are very poor." 

" There is no denying the fact, Seiior; it speaks for itself." 

" I presume, then, you will be glad of a job, and will work 
cheap." 

" As cheap, my master, as any mason in Granada." 

" That's what I want. I have an old house fallen to decay, 
that costs me more money than it is worth to keep it in repair, 
for nobody will hve in it ; so I must contrive to patch it up 
and keep it together at as small expense as possible." 

The mason was accordingly conducted to a huge deserted 
house that seemed going to ruin. Passing thi'ough several 
empty halls and chambers, he entered an inner court, where 
his eye was caught by an old Moorish fountain. 

He paused for a moment. " It seems," said he, " as if I had 
been in this place before; but it is like a dream. — Pray who 
occupied this house formerly?" 

"A pest upon him!" cried the landlord. "It was an old 
miserly priest, who cared for nobody but himself. He was 
said to be immensely rich, and, having no relations, it was 
thought he would leave all his treasure to the church. He 
died suddenly, and the priests and friars thronged to take 
possession of his wealth, but nothing could they find but a few 
ducats in a leathern purse. The worst luck has fallen on 
me ; for since his death, the old fellow continues to occupy my 
house without paying rent, and there's no taking the law of a 
dead man. The people pretend to hear at night the clinking 
of gold all night long in the chamber where the old priest slept, 
as if he were counting over his money, and sometimes a groan- 
ing and moaning about the court. Whether true or false 
these stories have brought a bad name on my house, and not a 
tenant will remain in it. " 

"Enough," said the mason sturdily — "Let me live in your 
house rent free until some better tenant presents, and I will 
engage to put it in repair and quiet the troubled spirits that 
disturb it. I am a good Christian and a poor man, and am not 
to be daunted by the devil himself, even though he come in the 
shape of a big bag of money." 

The offer of the honest mason was gladlj^ accepted; he 
moved with his family into the house, and fulfilled all his en- 
gagements. By little and little he restored it to its former 
state. The clinking of gold was no longer heard at night in 
the chamber of the defunct priest, but began to be heard by 
day in the pocket of the living mason. In a word, he in 



A BAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS. 57 

creased rapidly in wealth, to the admiration of all his neigh 
boui-s, and became one of the richest men in Granada. He 
gave large sums to the church, by way, no doubt, of satisfying 
his conscience, and never revealed the secret of his wealth 
until on his deathbed, to his son and heir. 



A RAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS. 

I FREQUENTLY amusc mysclf towards the close of the day, 
when the heat has subsided, with taking long rambles about 
the neighbouring hills and the deep mnbrageous valleys, 
accompanied by my historiographer Squire Mateo, to whose 
passion for gossiping, I, on such occasions, give the most un- 
bounding license ; and there is scarce a rock or ruin, or broken 
fountain, or lonely glen, about which he has not some mar- 
vellous story ; or, above all, some golden legend ; for never was 
poor devil so munificent in dispensing hidden treasures. 

A few evenings since we took a long stroll of the kind, in 
which Mateo was more than usually communicative. It was 
towards sunset that we sallied forth from the great Gate of 
Justice, and ascending an alley of trees, Mateo paused under a 
clump of fig and pomegranate trees at the foot of a huge ruined 
tower, called the Tower of the Seven Vaults, (de los siete 
suelos.) Here, pointing to a low archway at the foundation of 
the tower, he informed me, in an under tone, was the lurking- 
place of a monstrous sprite or hobgoblin called the BeUudo, 
which had infested the tower ever since the time of the Moors ; 
guarding, it is supposed, the treasures of a Moorish king. 
Sometimes it issues forth in the dead of the night, and scours 
the avenues of the Alhambra and the streets of Granada in 
the shape of a headless horse, pursued by six dogs, with 
terrific yells and bowlings. 

" But have you ever met with it yourself, Mateo, in any of 
your rambles?" 

"No, senor; but my grandfather, the tailor, knew several 
persons who had seen it ; for it went about much more in his 
time than at present : sometimes in one shape, sometimes in 
another. Every body in Granada has heard of the Belludo, 
tor the old women and nurses frighten the children with it 
when they cry. Some say it is the spirit of a cruel Moorish 



58 THE ALHAMBJkA. 

king, who killed his six sons, and buried them in these vaults, 
and that they hunt him at nights in revenge." 

Mateo went on to tell many particulars about this redoubt- 
able hobgoblin, which has, in fact, been time out of mind a 
favourite theme of nursery tale ancf popular tradition in Gra- 
nada, and is mentioned in some of the antiquated guide-books. 
When he had finished, we passed on, skirting the fruitful 
orchards of the Generaliif e ; among the trees of which two oi 
three nightingales were pouring forth a rich strain of melody. 
Behind these orchards we passed a number of Moorish tanks, 
with a door cut into the rocky bosom of the hill, but closed up. 
These tanks Mateo informed me were favourite bathing-places 
of himself and his comrades in boyhood, until frightened away 
by a story of a hideous Moor, who used to issue forth from the 
door in the rock to entrap unwary bathers. 

Leaving these haunted tanks behind us, we pursued our 
ramble up a solitary miile-path that wound among the hills, 
and soon found ourselves amidst wild and melancholy moun- 
tains, destitute of trees, and here and there tinted with scanty 
verdure. Every thing within sight was severe and sterile, and 
it was scarcely possible to realize the idea that but a short dis- 
tance behind us was the Generaliffe, with its blooming or- 
chards and terraced gardens, and that we were in the vicinity 
of delicious Granada, that city of groves and fountains. But 
such is the nature of Spain— wild and stern the moment it 
escapes from cultivation, the desert and the garden are ever 
side by side. 

The narrow defile up which we were passing is called, 
according to Mateo, el Barranco de la Tinaja, or the ravine of 
the jar. 

"And why so, Mateo?" inquired I. 

"Because, seiior, a jar full of Moorish gold was found here 
in old times." The brain of poor Mateo is continually run- 
ning upon these golden legends. 

"But what is the meaning of the cross I see yonder upon 
a heap of stones in that narrow part of the ravine?" 

"Oh! that's nothing— a muleteer was murdered there some 
years since." 

"So then, Mateo, you have robbers and murderers even at 
the gates of the Alhambra." 

"Not at present, senor— that was, formerly, when there 
used to be many loose fellows about the fortress; but they've 
all been weeded out. Not but that the gipsies, who live in 



A RAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS. 59 

caves in the hill-sides just out of the fortress, are, many of 
them, fit for any thing; but we have had no murder about 
here for a long time past. The man who miu*dered the mule' 
teer was hanged in the fortress." 

Our path continued up the barranco, with a bold, rugged 
height to our left, called the Silla del Moro, or chair of the 
Moor; from a tradition that the unfortunate Boabdil fled 
thither during a popular insurrection, and remained all day 
seated on the rocky summit, looking mournfully down upon 
his factious city. 

We at length arrived on the highest part of the promon- 
tory above Granada, called the Mountain of the Sun. The 
evening was approaching; the settiug sun just gilded the lof- 
tiest heights. Here and there a solitary shepherd might be 
descried driving his flock down the declivities to be folded for 
the night, or a muleteer and his lagging animals thi^eading 
some mountain path, to arrive at the city gates before night- 
fall. 

Presently the deep tones of the cathedral bell came swell- 
ing up the defiles, proclaiixdng the hour of Oracion, or prayer. 
The note was responded to from the belfry of every church, 
and from the sweet bells of the convents among the moun- 
tains. The shepherd paused on the fold of the hill, the mule- 
teer in the midst of the road; each took off his hat, and 
remained motionless for a time, murmuring his evening 
prayer. There is always something solemn and pleasing in 
this custom; by which, at a melodious signal, every human 
being throughout the land, recites, at the same moment, a 
tribute of thanks to God for the mercies of the day. It 
diffuses a transient sanctity over the land, and the sight of the 
sun sinking in all his glory, adds not a little to the solemnity 
of the scene. In the present instance, the effect was height- 
ened by the wild and lonely nature of the place. We were on 
the naked and broken summit of the haunted Moimtain of the 
Sun, where ruined tanks and cisterns, and the mouldering 
foundations of extensive buildings, spoke of former populous- 
ness, but where all was now silent and desolate. 

As we were wandering among these traces of old times, 
Mateo pointed out to me a circular pit, that seemed to pene- 
trate deep into the bosom of the mountain. It was evidently 
a deep well, dug by the indefatigable Moors, to obtain their 
favourite element in its greatest purity. Mateo, however, had 
a different story, and much more to his humom*. This wag, 



60 THE ALHAMBIIA. 

according to tradition, an entrance to the subterranean cav- 
erns of the mountain, in which Boabdil and his court lay 
bound in magic spell ; and from whence they salhed forth at 
night, at allotted times, to revisit their ancient abodes. 

The deepening twilight, which in this chmate is of such 
short duration, admonished us to leave this haunted ground. 
As we descended the mountain defiles, there was no longer 
herdsman or muleteer to be seen, nor any thmg to be heard 
but our own footsteps and the lonely chirping of the cricket. 
The shadows of the vaheys grew deeper and deeper, until all 
was dark around us. The lofty suuamit of the Sierra Nevada 
alone retained a lingering gleam of day-hght, its snowy peaks 
glaring against the dark blue firmament; and seenmig close 
to us, from the extreme purity of the atmosphere. 

"How near the Sierra looks this evening!" said Mateo, "it 
seems as if you could touch it with your hand, and yet it 
is many long leagues off." While he was speaking a star ap- 
peared over the snowy summit of the mountain, the only one 
yet visible in the heavens, and so pure, so large, so bright 
and beautiful as to call forth ejaculations of dehght from 
honest Mateo. 

" Que lucero hermoso ! — que claro y limpio es ! — ^no pueda ser 
lucero mas brillante !" — 

(What a beautiful star! how clear and lucid! — no star could 
be more brilliant !) 

I have often remarked this sensibility ol the common people 
of Spain to the charms of natiu'al objects. Tlie lustre of a star 
— the beauty or fragrance of a flower — the crystal purity of a 
fountain, will mspire them Avith a kind of poetical delight-^ 
and then what euphonious words their magnificent language 
affords, with which to give utterance to their transports ! 

"But what lights are those, Mateo, which I see twinkling 
along the Sierra Nevada, just below the snowy region, and 
which might be taken for stars, only that they are ruddy and 
against the dark side of the mountain?" 

"Those, Seiior, are fires made by the men who gather snow 
and ice for the supply of Granada. They go up every after- 
noon with mules and asses, and take turns, some to rest and 
warm themselves by the fires, while others fill their panniers 
with ice. Tliey then set off down the mountain, so as to reach 
the gates of Granada before sunrise. Tliat Sierra Nevada, 
Seiior, is a lump of ice in the middle of Andalusia, to keep it 
all cool in smnmer." 



A RAMBLE AMONG THE BILLS. 61 

It was now completely dark ; we were passing through the 
barranco where stood the cross of the murdered muleteer, 
when I beheld a number of lights moving at a distance and ap- 
parently advancing up the ravine. On nearer approach they 
proved to be torches borne by a tram of uncouth figures ar- 
rayed iti black ; it would have been a procession dreary enough 
at any time, but was pecuharly so in this wild and solitary 
place. 

Mateo drew near, and told me in a low voice that it was a 
funeral train bearing a corpse to the burying ground among 
the liills. 

As the procession passed by, the lugubrious light of the 
torches, falling on the rugged features and funereal weeds of 
the attendants, had the most fantastic effect, but was perfectly 
ghastly as it revealed the countenance of the corpse, which, 
accorc^ng to Spanish custom, was borne uncovered on an open 
bier. I remained for some time gazing after the dreary train 
as it wound up the dark defile of the mountain. It put me 
in mind of the old story of a procession of demons, bearing the 
body of a sinner up the crater of Stromboli. 

"Ah, Seiior," cried Mateo, "I could teU you a story of a pro- 
cession once seen among these mountains — ^but then you would 
laugh at me, and say it was one of the legacies of my grand- 
father the tailor."" 

" By no means, Mateo. There is nothing I relish more than 
a marvellous tale." 

"Well, Seiior, it is about one of those very men we have 
been talking of, who gather snow on the Sierra Nevada. You 
must know that a great many years since, in my grandfather's 
tune, there was an old fellow, Tio Nicolo by name, who had 
filled the panniers of his mules ^vith snow and ice, and was 
returning down the mountain. Being very drowsy, ho 
mounted upon the mule, and, soon falling asleep, went with 
his head nodding and bobbing about from side to side, while 
his sure-footed old mule stepped along the edge of precipices, 
and down steep and broken barrancos just as safe and steady , 
as if it had been on plain ground. At length Tio Nicolo awoke, 
and gazed about him, and rubbed his eyes — and in good truth 
he had reason — the moon shone almost as bright as day, and 
he paw the city below him, as plain as your hand, and shining 
with its white buildings like a silver platter in the moonshine; 
but lord ! Senor !— it was nothing like the city he left a few 
hours before. Instead of the cathedral with its great dome 



62 '-^'-^I^ ALIIAMBRA. 

and turrets, and the churches with their spires, and the con- 
vents with their pinnacles all surmounted with the blessed 
cross, he saw nothing but Moorish mosques, and minarets, 
and cupolas, all topped off with glittering crescents, such as 
you see on the Barbary flags. Well, Senor, as you may sup- 
pose, Tio Nicolo was mightily puzzled at all this, but while he 
was gazing down upon the city, a great army came marching 
up the raountain ; winding along the ravines, sometimes in the 
moonshine, sometimes in the shade. As it drew nigh, he saw 
that there were horse and foot, aU in Moorish armour. Tio 
Nicolo tried to scramble out of their way, but his old mule 
stood stock still and refused to budge, trembling at the same 
time Hke a leaf— for dumb beasts, Senor, are just as much 
frightened at such things as human beings. Well, Seiior, the 
hobgoblin army came marching b}^; there were m^n that 
seemed to blow trumpets, and others to beat drums and strike 
cymbals, yet never a sound did they make ; they all moved on 
without the least noise, just as I have seen painted armies 
move across the stage in the theatre of Granada, and aU 
looked as pale as death. At last in the rear of the army, 
between two black Moorish horsemen, rode the grand inquisi- 
tor of Granada, on a mule as white as snow. Tio Nicolo won- 
dered to see him in such company; for the inquisitor was 
famous for his hatred of Moors, and indeed of all kinds of 
infidels, Jews and heretics, and used to hunt them out with 
fire and scourge — hoAvever, Tio Nicolo felt himself safe, now 
that there was a priest of such sanctity at hand. So, making 
the sign of the cross, he called out for his benediction, when — 
hombre ! he received a blow that sent him and his old mule 
over the edge of a steep bank, down which they rolled, head 
over heels, to the bottom. Tio Nicolo did not come to his 
senses until long after sunrise, when he found himself at the 
bottom of a deep ravine, his mule grazing beside him, and his 
panniers of snow completely melted. He crawled back to 
G^ranada sorely bruised and battered, and was glad to find the 
Qitj looking as usual, with Christian churches and crosses. 
When he told the story of his night's adventure, every one 
lauglied at him : some said he had dreamt it all, as he dozed 
on his mule, others thought it all a fabrication of his own. 
But what was strange, Senor, and made people afterwards 
think more seriously of the matter, was, that the grand in- 
quisitor died within the year. I have often heard my grand- 
father, the tailgr, say that there was more meant by that 



THE COURT OF LIONS. . 63 

holbgoblin army bearing off the resemblance of the priest, than 
folks dared to surmise. " 

"Then you would insinuate, friend Mateo, that there is a 
kind of Moorish limbo, or i^urgatory, in the bowels of these 
mountains; to which the padre inquisitor wa^ b')rne off." 

" God forbid— Sefior— I know nothing of the matter— I only 
relate v/hat I heard from my grandfather. " 

By the time Mateo had finished the tale which I have more 
succinctly related, and which was interlarlai with many 
comments, and spun out mth minute details, wq reached the 
gate of the Alhambra. 



THE COURT OF LIONS. 

The peculiar charm of this old dreamy palace, is its power 
of caUing up vague reveries and picturings of the past, and 
thus clothing naked realities with the illusions of the memory 
and the imagination. As I delight to walk in these "vain 
shadows," I am prone to seek those parts of the Alhambra 
which are most favourable to this phantasmagoria of the 
mind ; and none are more so than the Court of Lions and its 
surrounding halls. Here the hand of time has fallen the 
lightest, and the traces of Moorish elegance and splendour 
exist in almost their original brilliancy. Earthquakes have 
shaken the foundations of this pile, and rent its rudest towers, 
yet see — not one of those slender columns has been displaced, 
not an arch of that light and fragile colonnade has given way, 
and all the fairy fretwork of these domes, apparently as un- 
substantial as the crystal fabrics of a morning's frost, yet exist 
after the lapse of centuries, almost as fresh as if from the hand 
of the Moslem artist. 

I write in the midst of these mementos of the past, in the 
fresh hour of early morning, in the fated hall of the Abencer- 
rages. The blood-stained fountain, the legendary monument 
of their massacre, is before me ; the lofty jet almost casts its 
dew upon my paper. How difficult to reconcile the ancient 
tale of violence and blood, with the gentle and peaceful scene 
around. Every thing here appears calculated to inspire kind 
and happy feelings, for every thing is delicate and beautiful. 
The very light falls tenderly from above, through the lantern 



64 Tim ALHAMBRA. 

of a dome tinted and wrought as if by fairy hands. Through 
the ami^le and tretted arch of the portal, I behold the Court of 
Lions, with brilliant sunshine gleaming along its colonnades 
and sparkhng in its fountains. The lively swallow dives into 
the court, and then surging upwards, darts away twittering 
over the roof ; the busy bee toils humming among the flower- 
beds, and painted butterflies hover from plant to plant, and 
flutter up, and sport with each other in the sunny air. — It 
needs but a shght exertion of the fancy to picture some pen- 
sive beauty of the harem, loitering in these secluded haunts of 
oriental luxury. 

He, however, who would behold this scene under an aspect 
more in unison with its fortunes, let hmi come when the 
shadows of evening temper the brightness of the court, and 
throw a gloom into the surrounding halls,— then nothing can 
be more serenely melancholy, or more in harmony with the 
tale of departed grandeur. 

At such times I am apt to seek the Hall of Justice, whose 
deep shadowy arcades extend across the upper end of the 
court. Here were performed, in presence of Ferdinand and 
Isabella, and their triumphant court, the pompous ceremonies 
of high mass, on taking possession of the Alhambra. The very 
cross is stiU to be seen upon the wall, where the altar was 
erected, and where ofliciated the grand cardinal of Spain, and 
others of the highest religious dignitaries of the land. 

I picture to myself the scene when this place was filled with 
the conquei'ing host, that mixture of mitred prelate, and shorn 
monk, and steel-clad knight, and silken courtier : when crosses 
and croziers and religious standards were mingled with proud 
armorial ensigns and the banners of the hau^htj^ chiefs of 
Spain, and flaunted in triumph through these Moslem halls. 
I picture to myself Columbus, the future discoverer of a world, 
taking his modest stand in a remote corner, the humble and 
neglected spectator of the pageant. I see in imagination the 
Cr.tholic sovereigns prostrating themselves before the altar 
and pouring forth thanks for their victory, while the vaults 
resound with sacred minstrelsy and the deep-toned Te Deum. 

The transient illusion is over— the pageant melts from the 
fancy — monarch, priest, and warrior return into obhvion, with 
the poor Moslems over whom they exulted. The hall of their 
triumph is waste and desolate. The bat flits about its twilight 
vaults, and the owl hoots from the neighbouring tower of 
Comares. The Court of the Lions has also its share of sup^- 



THE COURT 0J6' LIONS. 65 

natural legends. I have already mentioned the belief in the 
murmuring of voices and clanking of chains, made at night 
by the spirits of the murdered Abencerrages. Mateo Ximenes, 
a few evening since, at one of the gatherings m Dame An- 
tonia's apartment, related a fact which happened within the 
knowledge of his grandfather, the legendary tailor. There 
was an invahd soldier, who had charge of the Alhambra, to 
show it to strangers. As he was one evening about twilight 
passing through the Court of Lions, he heard footsteps in tl]fe 
Hall of the Abencerrages. Supposing some loungers to be 
lingering there, he advanced to attend upon them, when, to his 
astonishment, he beheld four Moors richly dressed, with gilded 
ciurasses and scimitars, and poniards glittering with precious 
stones. They were walking to and fro with solemn pace, but 
paused and beckoned to him. The old soldier, however, took 
to flight; and could never afterwards be prevailed upon to 
enter the Alhambra. Thus it is that men sometimes turn 
their backs upon fortune ; for it is the firm opinion of Mateo 
that the Moors intended to reveal the place where their treas- 
ures lay buried. A successor to the invalid soldier was more 
knowing; he came to the Alhambra poor, but at the end of a 
year went off to Malaga, bought horses, set up a carriage, and 
still lives there, one of the richest as well as oldest men of the 
place : all which, Mateo sagely surmises, was m consequence of 
his finding out the golden secret of these phantom Moors. 

On entering the Court of the Lions, a few evenings since, I 
was startled at beholding a turbaned Moor quietly seated near 
the fountain. It seemed, for a moment, as if one of the stories 
of Mateo Ximenes were realized, and some ancient inhabitant 
of the Alhambra had broken the spell of centuries, and become 
•visible. It proved, however, to be a mere ordinary mortal ; a 
native of Tetuan in Barbary, who had a shop in the Zacatin of 
Granada, where he sold rhubarb, trinkets, and perfumes. As 
he spoke Spanish fluently, I was enabled to hold conversation 
with him, and found him shrewd and intelligent. He told me 
that he came up the hiU occasionally in the summer, to pass a 
part of the day in the Alhambra, which reminded him of the 
old palaces in Barbary, w^hich were built and adorned in simi- 
lar style, though with less magnificence. 

As we walked about the jjalace he pointed out several of the 
Arabic inscriptions, as posse^ising much poetic beauty. 

"Ah! Senor," said he, "when the Moors held Granada, they 
were a gayer people than they are now-a-days. They thought 



ee THE ALUAMBRA. 

only of love, of music, and of poetry. They made stanzas 
upon every occasion, and set them all to music. He who could 
make the best verses, and she who had the most tuneful voice, 
might be sure of favour and preferment. In those days, if 
any one asked for bread the reply was, ' Make me a couplet ;' 
and the poorest beggar, if he begged in rhyme, would often be 
rewarded with a piece of gold. " 

"And is the popular feeling for poetry," said I, "entirely 
J^st among you?" 

"By no means, Seiior; the people of Barbary, even those of 
the lower classes, still make couplets, and good ones too, as in 
the old time, but talent is not rewarded as it was then : the 
rich prefer the jingle of their gold to the sound of poetry or 
music." 

As he was talking, Ms eye caught one of the inscriptions 
that foretold perpetuity to the power and glory of the Moslem 
monarchs, the masters of the pile. He shook his head and 
shrugged his shoulders as he interpreted it. "Such might 
have been the case," said he; "the Moslems might still have 
been reigning in the Alhambra, had not Boabdil been a trai- 
tor, and given up his capitol to the Christians. The Spanish 
m.onarchs would never have been able to conquer it by open 
force." 

I endeavoured to vindicate the memory of the unlucky Bo- 
abdil from this aspersion, and to show that the dissensions 
which led to the downfall of the Moorish throne, originated in 
the cruelty of his tiger-hearted father; but the Moor would 
admit of no palliation. 

"A'^ul Hassan," said he, "might have been cruel, but he 
was brave, vigilant, and patriotic. Had he been properly 
seconded, Granada would still have been ours; but his son 
Boabdil thwarted his plans, crippled his power, sowed treason 
in his palace, and dissension in his camp. May the curse of 
God light upon him for his treachery." With these words the 
Moor left the Alhambra. 

The indignation of my turbaned companion agrees with an 
anecdote related by a friend, who, in the course of a tour in 
Barbary, had an interview with the pasha of Tetuan. The 
]\Ioorish governor was particular in his inquiries about the soil, 
the climate and resources of Spain, and especially concerning 
the favoured regions of Andalusia, the delights of Granada 
and the remains of its royal palace. The replies awakened all 
those fond recollections, so deeply cherished by the Moors, of 



BOABDIL EL CHICO. 67 

the power and splendour of their ancient empire in Spain. 
Turning to his Moslem attendants, the pasha stroked his 
beard, and broke forth in passionate lamentations that such a 
sceptre should ha^e fallen from the sway of true believers. 
He consoled himself, however, with the persuasion, that the 
power and prosperity of the Spanish nation were on the de- 
cline ; that a time would come when the Moors would recon- 
quer their rightfiil domains ; and that the day was, perhaps, 
not far distant, when Mohammedan worship would again be 
offered up in the mosque of Cordova, and a Mohammedan 
prince sit on his throne in the Alhambra. 

Such is the general aspiration and belief among the Moors of 
Barbary ; who consider Spain, and especially Andalusia, their 
rightful heritage, of which they have been despoiled by 
treachery and violence. These ideas are fostered and per- 
petuated by the descendants of the exiled Moors of Granada, 
scattered among the cities of Barbary. Several of these reside 
in Tetuan. preserving their ancient names, such as Paez, and 
Medina, and refraining from intermarriage with any families 
who cannot claim the same high origin. Their vaunted lineage 
is regarded mth a degree of popular deference rarely shown in 
Mohammedan communities to any hereditary distinction ex- 
cept in the royal line. 

These families, it is said, continue to sigh after the terres- 
trial paradise of their ancestors, and to put up prayers in their 
mosques on Fridays, imploring Allah to hasten the time when 
Granada shall be restored to the faithful ; an event to which 
they look forward as fondly and confidently as did the Chris- 
tian crusaders to the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre. Nay, it 
is added, that some of them retain the ancient maps and deeds 
of the estates and gardens of their ancestors at Granada, and 
even the keys of the houses; holding them as evidences of 
their hereditary claims, to be produced at the anticipated day 
of restoration. 



BOABDIL EL CHICO. 

My conversation with the Moor in the Court of Lions set me 
to musing on the singular fate of Boabdil. Never was sur- 
name more ar>plicable than that bestowed upon him by his 
.subjects, of " El Zogoybi, " or, ' ' the unlucky. " His misfortunes 



68 TEE ALHAMBRA, 

began almost in his cradle. In his tender youth he was impris- 
oned and menaced with death by an inhuman father, and only 
escaped through a mother's stratagem ; in after years his life 
was imbittered and repeatedly endangered by the hostilities of 
a usui*ping uncle; his reign was distracted by external inva- 
sions and internal feuds; he was alternately the foe, the pris- 
oner, the friend, and always the dupe of Ferdinand, until 
conquered and dethroned by the mingled craft and force Of 
that perfidious monarch. An exile from his native land, he 
took refuge with one of the princes of Africa, and fell ob- 
Gcurely in battle fighting in the cause of a stranger. His mis' 
fortunes ceased not with his death. If Boabdil cherished a 
desire to leave an honourable name on the historic page, how 
cruelly has he been defrauded of his hopes ! Who is there that 
has turned the least attention to the romantic history of the 
Moorish domination in Spain, without kindling with indigna- 
tion at the alleged atrocities of Boabdil? Who has not been 
touched with the woes of his lovely and gentle queen, subjected 
by him to a trial of life and death, on a false charge of infidel- 
ity? Who has not been shocked by the alleged murder of his 
sister and her two children, in a transport of passion? Who 
has not felt his blood boil at the inhuman massacre of the gal- 
lant Abencerrages, thirty-six of whom, it is affirmed, he caused 
to be beheaded in the Court of the Lions? All these charges 
have been reiterated in various forms ; they have passed into 
ballads, dramas, and romances, until they have tciken too 
thorough possession of the public mind to be eradicated. 

There is not a foreigner of education that visits the Alham- 
bra, but asks for the fountain where the Abencerrages were 
beheaded ; and gazes with horror at the grated gallery 'vhere 
the queen is said to have been confined ; not a peasant of the 
Vega or the Sierra, but sings the story in rude couplets to the 
accompaniment of his guitar, while his hearers learn to exe- 
crate the very name of Boabdil. 

Never, however, was name more foully and unjustly slan- 
dered. I have examined all the authentic chronicles and 
letters written by Spanish authors contemporary with Boab- 
dil ; some of whom were in the confidence of the Catholic sove- 
reigns, and actually present in the camp throughout the war ; 
I have examined all the Arabian authorities I could get access 
to through the medium of translation, and can find nothing to 
justify these dark and hateful accusations. 

The whole of these tales may be traced to a work commonly 



BOABBIL EL CHICO. 69 

called "The Civil Wars of Granada," containing a pretended 
history of the feuds of the Zegries and Abencerrages during 
the last struggle of the Moorish empire. This work appeared 
originally in Spanish, and professed to be translated from the 
Arabic by one Gines Perez de Hita, an inhabitant of Murcia» 
It has since passed mto various languages, and Florian has 
taken from it much of the fable of his Gonsalvo of Cordova. 
It has, in a great measure, usurped the authority of real his- 
tory, and is currently believed by the people, and especially 
the peasantry of Granada. The whole of it, however, is a mass 
of fiction, mingled with a few disfigured truths, which give it 
an air of veracity. It bears internal evidence of its falsity, the 
manners and customs of the Moors being extravagantly mis- 
represented in it, and scenes dej^icted totally incompatible 
with their habits and their faith, and which never could have 
been recorded by a Mahometan writer. 

I confess there seems to me something almost criminal in the 
wilful perversions of this work. Great latitude is undoubtedly 
to be allowed to romantic fiction, but there are limits which it 
must not pass, and the names of the distinguished dead, which 
belong to history, are no more to be calumniated than those of 
the illustrious living. One would have thought, too, that the 
unfortunate Boabdil had suffered enough for his justifiable 
hostihty to Spaniards, by being stripped of his kingdom, with- 
out having his name thus wantonly traduced and rendered a 
bye- word and a theme of infamy in his native land, and in the 
very mansion of his fathers ! 

It is not intended hereby to affirm that the transactions im- 
puted to Boabdil are totally without historic foundation, but 
as far as they can be traced, they appear to have been the arts 
of his father, Abul Hassan, who is represented, by both Chris- 
tian and Arabian chroniclers, as being of a cruel and ferocious 
nature. It was he who put to death the cavaliers of the illus- 
trious line of the Abencerrages, upon suspicion of their being 
engaged In a conspiracy to dispossess him of his throne. 

The story of the accusation of the queen of Boabdil, and of 
her confinement in one of the towers, may also be traced to an 
incident in the life of his tiger-hearted father. Abid Hassan, 
in his advanced age, married a beautiful Christian captive of 
noble descent, who took the Moorish appellation of Zorayda, 
by whom he had two sons. She was of an ambitious spirit, 
and anxious that her children should succeed to the crown. 
For this purpose she worked upon the suspicious temper of tb^ 



70 



THE ALHAMBRA. 



king; inflaming him with jealousies of his children by his 
other wives and concubines, whom she accused of plotting 
against his throne and life. Some of them were slain by the 
ferocious father. Ayxa la Horra, the virtuous mother of Bo- 
abdil, who had once been his cherished favourite, became 
likewise the object of his suspicion. He confined her and her 
son in the fewer of Comares, and would have sacrificed Boab- 
dil to his fury, but that his tender mother lowered him from 
the tower, in the night, by means of the scarfs of herself and 
her attendants, and thus enabled him to escape to Guadix. 

Such is the only shadow of a foundation that I can find for 
the story of the accused and captive queen; and in this it 
appears that Boabdil was the persecuted instead of the per- 
secutor. 

Throughout the whole of his brief, turbulent, and disastrous 
reign, Boabdil gives evidences of a mild and amiable character. 
He in the first instance won the hearts of the people by his 
affable and gracious manners; he was always peaceable, and 
never inflicted any severity of punishment upon those who 
occasionally rebelled against liim. He was personally brave, 
but he wanted moral courage, and in times of difficulty and 
perplexity, was wavering and irresolute. This feebleness of 
spirit hastened his downfall, while it deprived him of that 
heroic grace which would have given a grandeur and dignity 
to his fate, and rendered him worthy of closing the splendid 
drama of the Moslem domination in Spain. 



MEMENTOS OF BOABDIL. 

While my mind was still warm with the subject of the un- 
fortunate Boabdil, I set forth to trace the mementos connected 
with his. story, which yet exist in this scene of his sovereignty 
and his misfortunes. In the picture gallery of the Palace of the 
Generaliffe, hangs his portrait. The face is mild, handsome and 
somewhat melancholy, with a -air complexion and yellow hai)' ; 
if it be a true representation of the man, he may have been 
wavering and uncertain, but there is nothing of cruelty or un- 
kindness in his aspect. 

I next visited the dungeon wherein he was confined in his 
youthful days, when his cruel father meditated his destruction. 



MEMENTOS OF BOABDIL. 71 

It is a vaulted room in tlie tower of Comares, under the Hall of 
Ajnbassadors. A similar room, separated by a narrow passage, 
was the prison of his mother, the virtuous Ayxa la Horra. 
The walls are of prodigious tliickness, and the small windows 
secured by iron bars. A narrow stone gallery, with a low par- 
apet, extends round three sides of the tower just below the 
windows, but at a considerable height from the ground. From 
this gallery, it is presumed, the queen lowered her son with tho 
scarfs of herself and her female attendants, during the dark- 
ness of night, to the hillside, at the loot of which waited a do- 
mestic with a fleet steed to bear the prince to the mountains. 

As I paced this gallery, my imagination pictured the anxious 
queen leaning over the parapet, and listening, with the throb- 
bings of a mother's heart, to the last echo of the horse's hoofs, 
as her son scoured along the narrow valley of the Darro. 

My next search was for the gate by which Boabdil departed 
from the Alhambra, when about to surrender his capital. 
With the melancholy caprice of a broken spirit, he requested 
of the Cathohc monarchs that no one afterwards might be per- 
mitted to pass through tliis gate. His prayer, according to an- 
cient chronicles, was complied with, through the sympathy of 
Isabella, and the gate walled up. For some time I inquired in 
vain for such a portal ; at length my humble attendant, Mateo, 
learned among the old residents of the fortress, that a ruinous 
gateway still existed, by Avhich, according to tradition, the 
Moorish king had left the fortress, but which had never been 
opened within the memory of the oldest inhabitant. 

He conducted me to the spot. The gateway is in tlie centre 
of what was once an immense tower, called la Torre de los 
Siete Suelos, or, the To^ver of the Seven Moors. It is a place 
famous in the superstitious stories of the neighbourhood, for 
being the scene of strange apparitions and Moorish enchant- 
ments. 

This once redoubtable tower is now a mere wreck, having 
been blown up with gunpowder, by the French, when they 
abandoned the fortress. Groat masses of the wall lie scattered 
about, buried in the luxuriant herbage, or overshadowed by 
vines and fig-trees. The arch of the gateway, though rent by 
the shock, still remains ; but the last wish of poor Loabdil has 
been again, though unintentionally, fulfilled, for the portal has 
been closed up by loose stones gathered from the ruins, and re- 
mains impassable. 

Following up the route of the Moslem monarch as ii remains 



72 THE ALHAMBRA. 

on record, I crossed on horseback the hill of Les Martyrs, keep- 
ing along the garden of the convent of the same name, and 
thence down a rugged ravine, beset by thickets of aloes and 
Indian figs, and lined by caves and hovels swarming with gip- 
sies. It was the road taken by Boabdil to avoid passing 
through the city. The descent was so steep and broken that I 
was obhged to dismount and lead my horse. 

Emerging from the ravine, and passing by the Puerta de los 
Molinos, (the Gate of the Mills,) I issued forth upon the public 
promenade, called the Prado, and pursuing the course of the 
Xenil, arrived at a small Moorish mosque, now converted into 
the chapel, or hermitage of San Sebastian. A tablet on the 
wall relates that on this spot Boabdil surrendered the keys of 
Granada to the Castilian sovereigns. 

From thence I rode slowly across the Vega to a viUage where 
the family and household of the unhappy king had awaited 
him ; for he had sent them forward on the preceding night from 
the Alhambra, that his mother and wife might not participate 
in his personal humiliation, or be exposed to the gaze of the 
conquerors. 

Following on in the route of the melancholy band of royal 
exiles, I arrived at the foot of a chain of barren and dreary 
heights, forming the skirt of the Alpuxarra mountains. From 
the summit of one of these, the unfortunate Boabdil took liis 
last look at Granada. It bears a name expressive of his sor- 
rows — La Cuesta de l^s Lagrimas, (the Hill of Tears.) Beyond 
it a sandy road winds across a rugged cheerless waste, doubly 
dismal to the unhappy monarch, as it led to exile ; behind, in 
the distance, lies the " enamelled Vega," with the Xenil shining 
among its bowers, and Granada beyond. 

I spurred my horse to the summit of a rock, where Boabdil 
uttered his last sorrowful exclamation, as he turned his eyes 
from taking their farewell gaze. It is still denominated el ul- 
timo suspiro del Moro, (the last sigh of the Moor.) Who can 
wonder at his anguish at being expelled from such a kingdom 
and such an abode? With the Alhambra he seemed to be 
yielding up aU the honours of his line, and all the glories and 
delights of life. 

It was here, too, that his affliction was imbittered by the re- 
proach of his mother Ayxa, who had so often assisted him in 
times of peril, and had vainly sought to instil into him her own 
resolute spirit. ' ' You do well, " said she, ' ' to weep as a woman 
over what you could not defend as a man!" — A speech that 



THE TOWER OF LAS INFANTAS. 73 

savours more of the pride of the princess, than the tenderness 
of the mother. 

When this anecdote was related to Charles V., by Bishop 
Guevara, the emperor joined in the expression of scorn at the 
weakness of the wavering Boabdil. "Had I been he, or he 
been I," said the haughty potentate, "I would rather have 
made this Alhambra my sepulchre, than have lived without a 
kingdom in the Alpuxarra. 

How easy it is for them in power and prosperity to i^reach 
heroism to the vanquished ! How little can they understand 
that life itself may rise in value with the unfortunate, when 
nought but life remains. 



THE TOWER OF LAS INFANTAS. 

In an evening's stroll up a narrow glen, overshadowed by 
fig-trees, pomegranates, and myrtles, that divides the land of 
the fortress from those of the Generaliffe, I was struck with 
the romantic appearance of a Moorish tower in the outer waU 
of the Alhambra, that rose high above the tree-tops, and 
caught the ruddy rays of the setting sun. A solitary window, 
at a great height, commanded a view of the glen, and as I was 
regarding it a young female looked out, with her head adorned 
with flowers. She was evidently superior to the usual class of 
people that inhabit the old towers of the fortress; and this 
sudden and picturesque glimpse of her, reminded me of the 
descriptions of captive beauties in fairy tales. The fanciful 
associations of my mind were increased on being informed by 
my attendant, Mateo, that this was the tower of the princesses, 
(la Torre de las Infantas,) so called from ha^dng been, accord- 
ing to tradition, the residence of the daughters of the Moorish 
kings. I have since visited the tower. It is not generally 
shown to strangers, though well Avorthy attention, for the 
interior is equal for beauty of architecture and delicacy of 
ornament, to any part of the palace. The elegance of its cen- 
tral hall with its marble fountain, its lofty arches and richly 
fretted dome; the arabesques and stucco work of the small, 
but well-proportioned chambers, though injured by time and 
neglect, all accord with the story of its being anciently the 
abode of royal beauty. 



74 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

The little old fairy queen who lives under the staircase of 
the Alhambra, and frequents the evening tertulias of Dame 
Antonia, tells some fanciful traditions about three Moorish 
princesses who were once shut up in this tower by their father, 
a tyrant king of Granada, and were only permitted to ride out 
at night about the liills, when no one was permitted to come in 
their way, under pain of death. They still, according to her 
account, may be seen occasionally when the moon is in the 
full, riding in lonely places along the mountain side, on pal- 
freys richly caparisoned, and sparkling with jewels, but they 
vanish on being spoken to. 

— But before I relate any thing farther respecting these prin- 
cesses, the reader may be anxious to know something about 
the fair inhabitant of the tower with her head drest with 
flowers, who looked out from the lofty window. She proved 
to be the newly married spouse of the worthy adjutant of 
invalids; who, though well stricken in years, had had the 
courage to take to his bosom a young and buxom Andalusian 
damsel. May the good old cavalier be happy in his choice, 
and find the tower of the Princesses a more secure residence 
for female beauty than it seems to have proved in the time of 
the Moslems, if we may believe the following legend. 



THE HOUSE OF THE WEATHERCOCK. 

On the brow of the lofty hill of the Albaycin, the highest 
part of the city of G-ranada, stand the remains of what was 
once a royal palace, founded shortly after the conquest of 
Spain by the Arabs. It is now converted into a manufactory, 
and has fallen into such obscurity that it cost me much trouble 
to find it, notwithstanding that I had the assistance of the 
sagacious and all-knowing Mateo Ximenes. This edifice still 
bears the name by which it has been known for centuries, 
namely, la Casa del Gallo de Viento ; that is, the House of the 
Weathercock. 

It was so called from a bronze figure of a v/arrior on horse- 
back, armed with shield and spear, erected on one of its tur- 
rets, and turning with every wind ; bearing an Arabic motto, 
which, translated into Spanish, was as follows: 



THE LEGEND OF' THE ARABIAN ASTEOLOGiJU. 75 

Dici el Sabio Aben Habuz 
Que asi se defiende el Anduluz. 

In this way, says Aben Habuz the -wise, 
The Audalusian his foe defies. 

This Aben Habuz was a captain who served in the invading 
''army of Taric, and was left as alcayde of Granada. He is 
supposed to have intended this warhke eflfigy as a perpetual 
memorial to the Moorish inhabitants, that surrounded as they 
were by foes, and subject to sudden invasion, their safety 
depended upon being always ready for the field. 

Other traditions, however, give a differenf account of tliis 
Aben Habuz and his palace, and affirm that his bronze horse- 
man was originally a talisman of great virtue, though in after 
ages it lost its magic properties and degenerated into a weath- 
ercock. The following are the traditions alluded to. 



THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. 

In old times, many hundred years ago, there was a Moorish 
king named Aben Habuz, who reigned over the kingdom of 
Granada. He was a retired conqueror, that is to say, one 
who, having in his more youthful days led a life of constant 
foray and depredation, now that he was grown old and super- 
annuated, "languished for repose," and desired nothing more 
than to live at peace with all the world, to husband his laurels, 
and to enjoy in quiet the possessions he had wrested from his 
neighbours. 

It so happened, however, that this most reasonable and 
pacific old monarch had young rivals to deal with— princes fuU 
of his early passion for fame and fighting, and who had some 
scores to settle which he had run up with their fathers ; he 
had also some turbulent and discontented districts of his own 
teri;itories among the Alpuxarra mountains, which, during 
the days of his vigour, he had treated with a high hand ; and 
which, now that he languished for repose, were prone to rise 
in rebellion and to threaten to march to Granada and drive 
him from his throne. To make the matter worse, as Granada 
is surrounded by wild and craggy mountains which hide the 
approach of an enemy, the unfortunate Aben Habuz was kept 
in a constant state of vigilance and alarm, not knowing in 
what quarter hostilities might break out. 



76 THE ALEAMBRA. 

It was in vain that he built watch-towers on the mountains 
and stationed guards at every pass, with orders to make fires 
by night, and smoke by day, on the approach of an enemy. 
His alert foes would baffle every precaution, and come break- 
ing out of some unthought-of defile, — ravage his lands beneath 
his very nose, and then make off with prisoners and booty to 
the mountains. Was ever peaceable and retired conqueror in 
a more uncomfortable predicament ! 

While the pacific Aben Habuz was harassed by these per- 
plexities and molestations, an ancient Arabian physician ar- 
rived at his court. His gray beard descended to his girdle, 
and he had every mark of extreme age, yet he had travelled 
almost the whole way from Egypt on foot, with no other aid 
than a staff marked with hieroglyphics. His fame had pre- 
ceded liim. His name was Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub ; he was 
said to have hved ever since the , days of Mahomet, and to be j 
the son of Abu Ayub, the last of the companions of the prophet. ■ 
He had, when a child, followed the conquering army of Amru 
into Egypt, where he had remained many years studying the 
dark sciences, and particularly magic, among the Egyptian 
priests. It was moreover said that he had found out the secret 
of prolonging life, by means of which he had arrived to the 
great age of upwards of two centuries ; though, as he did not 
discover the secret until well stricken in years, he could only 
perpetuate his .irray hairs and wrinkles. 

This wonderful old man was very honourably entertained 
by the king ; who, like most superannuated monarchs, began 
to take physicians into great favour. He would have assigned 
him an apartment in his palace, but the astrologer preferred a 
cave in the side of the hill, which rises above the city of Gran- 
ada, being the same on which the Alhambra has since been 
built. He caused the cave to be enlarged so as to form a 
spacious and lofty hall with a circular hole at the top, through 
which, as through a well, he could see the heavens and behold 
the stars even at mid-day. The wall of this hall were covered 
with Egyptian hieroglyphics, with cabalistic symbols, and with 
the figures of the stars in their signs. This hall he furnished 
with many implements, fabricated under hir direction by cun- 
nhig artificers of Granada, but the occult properties of which 
were only known to himself. In a little while the sage Ibra- 
him became the bosom counsellor of the king, to whom he ap- 
plied for advice in every emergency. Aben Habuz .was once 
inveighing against the injustice of his neighbours, and bewail 



THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. 77 

ing the restless vigilance he had to observe to guard himself 
against their invasions ;— when he had finished, the astrologer 
remained silent for a moment, and then replied, ' ' Know, O 
king, that when I was in Egypt I beheld a great marvel devised 
by a pagan priestess of old. On a mountain above the city of 
Borsa, and overlooking the great valley of the Nile, was a 
figure of a ram, and above it a figure of a cock, both of molten 
brass and turning upon a pivot. Whenever the country was 
lihreatened with invasion, the ram would turn in the direction 
of the enemy and the cock would crow; upon this the inhabi- 
tants of the city knew of the danger, and of the quarter from 
which it was approaching, and cotdd take timely notice to 
guard against it." 

"God is great!" exclaimed the pacific Aben Fiabuz ; "what 
a treasure would be such a ram to keep an eye upon these 
mountains around me, and then such a cock to crow in time of 
danger! Allah Achbar! how securely I might sleep in my 
palace with such senti lels on the top !" 

" Listen, O king," continued the astrologer gravely. "When 
the victorious Amru (God's peace be upon him !) conquered the 
city of Borsa, this talisman was destroyed ; but I was present, 
and examined it, and studied its secret and mystery, and can 
make one of like, and even of greater virtues. " 

" O wise son of Abu Ajaib," cried Aben Habuz, "better were 
such a talisman than all the watch-towers on the hills, and 
sentinels upon the borders. Give me such a safeguard, and 
the riches of my treasury are at thy command." 

The astrologer immediately set to work to gratify the wishes 
of the monarch ; shutting himself up in his astrological hall, 
and exerting the necromantic arts he had learnt in Egypt, he 
summoned to his assistance the spirits and demons of the Nile. 
By his command they transported to his presence a mummy 
from a^epulchral chamber in the centre of one of the Pyra- 
mids. It was the mummy of the priest who had aided by 
magic art in rearing that stupendous pile. 

The astrologer opened the outer cases of the mummy, and 
unfolded its many wrappers. On the breast of the corpse was 
a book written in Chaldaic characters. He seized it with 
trembling hand, then returning the mummy to its case, 
ordered the demons to transport it again to its dark and silent 
sepulchre in the Pyramid, there to await the final day of resur- 
rection and judgment. 

This book, say the traditionc, was the book of knowledge 



78 THE ALHAMBRA. 

given by God to Adam after his fall. It had been handed 
down from generation to generation, to King Solomon the 
Wise, and by the aid of the wonderful secrets in magic and art 
revealed in it, he had built the temple of Jerusalem. How it 
had come into the possession of the builder of the Pyramids, 
He only knows who knows all things. 

Instructed by this mystic volume, and aided by the genii 
which it subjected to his command, the astrologer soon erected 
a great tower upon the top of the palace of Aben Habuz, which 
stood on the brow of the hill of the Albaycin. The tower was 
built of stones brought from Egypt, and taken, it is said, from 
one of the Pyramids. In the upper part of the tower was a 
circular hall, with windows looking toward every point of the 
compass, and before each window was a table, on which was 
arranged, as on a chess-board, a mimic army of horse and foot, 
with the effigy of the potentate that ruled in that direction ; all 
carved of wood. To each of these tables there was a small 
lance, no bigger than a bodkin, on which were engraved certain 
mysterious Chaldaic characters. This hall was kept constantly 
closed by a gate of brass with a great lock of steel, the key of 
which was in possession of the king. 

On the top of the tower was a bronze figure of a Moorish 
horseman, fixed oi^ a pivot, with a shield on one arm, and his 
lance elevated perpendicularly. The face of this horseman 
was towards the city, as if keeping guard over it ; but if any 
foe were at hand, the figure would turn in that direction and 
would level the lance as if for action. 

When this talisman was finished, Aben Habuz was all impa- 
tient to try its virtues ; and longed as ardently for an invasion 
as he had ever sighed after repose. His desire was soon garati- 
fied. Tidings were brought early one morning, by the sentinel 
appointed to watch the tower, that the face of the brazen horse- 
man was turned towards the mountains of Elvira, and that his 
lance pointed directly against the pass of Lope. 

" Let the drums and trumpets sound to arms, and all Gran- 
ada be put on the alert," said Aben Habuz. 

"O king," said the astrologer, "let not your city be dis- 
quieted, nor your warriors called to arms ; we need no aid of 
force to deliver you from your enemies. Dismiss your attend- 
ants and let us proceed alone to the secret hall of the tower." 

The ancient Aben Habuz mounted the staircase of the tower, 
leaning on the arm of the still more ancient Ibrahim Ebn Abu 
Ayub. They unlocked the brazen door and entered. The 



THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOQEB. 79 

window that looked towards the pass of Lope was open. "In 
this direction," said the astrologer, "lies the danger — approach, 
king, and behold the mystery of the table. " 

King Aben Habuz approached the seeming' chess-board, on 
which were arranged the small wooden eflSgies ; when lo ! they 
were all in motion. The horses pranced and curveted, the 
warriors brandished their weapons, and there was a faint 
sound of drums and trumpets, and a clang of arms and neigh- 
ing of steeds, but all no louder, nor more distinct, than the 
hum of the bee or summer-fly in the drowsy ear of him who 
lies at noon-tide in the shade. 

"Behold, king," said the astrologer, "a proof that thy en- 
emies are even now in the field. They must be advancing 
through yonder mountains by the pass of Lope. Would you 
produce a panic and confusion amongst them, and cause them 
to abandon their enterprise and retreat without loss of life, 
strike these eflQgies with the butt end of this magic lance ; but 
would you cause bloody feud and carnage among them, strike 
with the point." 

A livid streak passed across the countenance of the pacific 
Aben Habuz ; he seized the mimic lance with trembhng eager- 
ness, and tottered towards the table ; his gray beard wagged 
with chuckling exultation. "Son of Abu Ayub," exclaimed 
he, "I think we will have a little blood !" 

So saying he thrust the magic lance into some of the pigmy 
effigies, and belaboured others with the butt end ; upon which 
the former fell, as dead, upon the board, and the rest turning 
upon each other, began, pell-mell, a chance-medley fight. 

It was with difficLilty the astrologer could stay the hand ot 
the most pacific of monarchs, and prevent him from absolutely 
exterminating his foes. At length he prevailed upon him to 
leave the tower, and to send out scouts to the mountains by 
the pass of Lope. 

They returned with the intelligence that a, Christian army 
had advanced through the heart of the Sierra, almost v/itliin 
sight of G-ranada, when a dissension having broken out among 
them, they had turned their weapons against each other, and 
after much slaughter, had retreated over the border. 

Aben Habuz was transported with joy on thus proving the 
efficacy of the talisman. "At length," said he, "I shaU lead 
a life of tranquillity, and have all my enemies in my power. 
Oh ! wise son of Abu Ayub, what can I bestow on thee in re- 
ward for such a blessing ?" 



80 THE ALHAMBRA. 

"The wants of an old man and a philosopher, O king, are 
few and simple — grant me but the means of fitting up my cave 
as a suitable hermitage, and I am content." 

"How noble is the moderation of the truly wise !" exclaimea 
Aben Habuz, secretly pleased at the cheapness of the recom- 
pense. He summoned his treasurer, and bade him dispense 
whatever sums might be required by Ibrahim to complete and 
furnish his hermitage. 

The astrologer now gave orders to have various chambers 
hewn out of the solid rock, so as to form ranges of apartments 
connected with his astrological hall. These he caused to be 
furnished with luxurious ottomans and divans ; and the walls 
to be hung with the richest silks of Damascus. "I am an old 
man," said he, "and can no longer rest my bones on stone 
couches; and these damp walls require covering." 

He also had baths constructed and provided with all kinds of 
perfumery and aromatic oils; "for a bath," said he, "is neces- 
sary to counteract the rigidity of age, and to restore freshness 
and suppleness to the frame withered by study." 

He caused the apartments to be hung with innumerable silver 
and crystal lamps, which he filled with a fragrant oil prepared 
according to a receipt discovered by him in the tombs of Eg>^pt. 
This oil was perpetual in its nature, and diffused a soft radi- 
ance like the tempered light of day. "The fight of the sun," 
said he, " is too garish and violent for the eyes of an old man; 
and the light of the lamp is more congenial to the studies of a 
philosopher." 

The treasurer of King Aben Habuz groaned at the sums 
daily demanded to fit up this hermitage, and he carried his 
complaints to the king. The royal word, however, was given 
— Aben Habuz shrugged his shoulders.— "We must have pa- 
tience," said he; "this old man has taken his idea of a philo- 
sophic retreat from the interior of the Pyramids and the vast 
ruins of Egypt ; but all things have an end, and so will the 
furnishing of his cavern." 

The king was in the right ; the hermitage was at length com- 
plete, and formed a sumptuous subterranean palace. "I am 
now content," said Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub, to the treasurer; 
" I wiU shut myself up in my ceU and devote my time to study. 
I desire nothing more, — nothing, — except a trifling solace to 
amuse me at the intervals of mental labour." 

" Oh ! wise Ibrahim, ask what thou wilt; I am bound to fur- 
nish all that is necessary for thy solitude." 



THE LEGEND OF TEE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. 81 

''I would fain have then a few dancmg women," said the 
philosopher. 

"Dancing women!" echoed the treasm'er with surprise. 

"Dancing women," rephed the sage, gravely: "a few will 
sufl&ce ; for I am an old man and a philosopher, of simple hab- 
its and easily satisfied. Let them, however, be young and fair 
to look upon — for the sight of youth and beauty is refreshing 
to old age." 

While the philosophic Ibrahim Ebn Ayub passed his time 
thus sagely in his hermitage, the pacific Aben Habuz carried 
on furious campaigns in eflQgy in his tower. It was a glorious 
thing for an old man like himself, of quiet habits, to have war 
made easy, and to be enabled to amuse himself in his chamber 
by brushing away whole armies hke so many swarms of flies. 
For a time he rioiued in the indulgence of his humours, and 
even taunted and insulted his neighbuurs to induce them to 
make incursions ; but by degrees they grew wary from repeated 
disasters, until no one ventured to inv^ade his territories. For 
many months the bronze horseman remained on the peace 
establishment with his lance elevated in the air, and the 
worthy old monarch began to repine at the want of his ac- 
customed sport, and to grow peevish at his monotonous tran- 
quilhty. 

At length, one day, the tahsmanic horseman veered suddenly 
round, and, lowering his lance, made a dead point towards the 
mountains of Guadix. Aben Habuz hastened to his tower, but 
the magic table in that direction remained quiet — not a smgle 
warrior was in motion. Perplexed at the circumstance, he sent 
forth a troop of horse to scour the moiintains and reconnoitre. 
They returned after three days' absence. Rodovan, the captain 
of the troop, addressed the king: "We have searched every 
mountain pass," said he, "but not a helm or spear was stirring. 
All that we have found in the course of our foray was a Chris- 
tian damsel of surpassing beauty, sleeping at noon-tide beside 
a fountain, whom we have brought away captive." 

"A damsel of surpassing beauty!" exclaimed Aben Habuz, 
his eyes gleaming with animation: " let her be conducted into 
my presence." "Pardon me, O king!" replied Rodovan, "but 
our warfare at present is scanty ; and yields but little harvest. 
I had hoped this chance gleaning would have been allowed f oi' 
my services.*' 

' ' Chance gleaning !" cried Aben Habuz. * ' What ! — a damsel 
of sm'passing beauty ! By the head of my father ! it is the 



82 THB] ALHAMBRA. 

choice fruits of warfare, only to be garnered up into the royal 
keeping. — Let the damsel be brought hither instantly." 

The beautiful damsel was accordingly conducted into his 
presence. She was arrayed in the Gothic style, with all the 
luxury of ornament that had prevailed among the Gothic 
Spaniards at the time of the Arabian conquest. Pearls of 
dazzling whiteness were entwined with her raven tresses ; and 
jewels sparkled on her forehead, rivalling the lustre of her 
eyes. Around her neck was a golden chain, to wliich was 
suspended a silver lyre which hung by her side. 

The flashes of her dark refulgent eye were like sparks of fire 
on the withered, yet combustible breast of Aben Habuz, and 
set it in a flame. The swimming voluptuousness of her gait 
made his senses reel. "Fairest of women," cried he, with 
rapture, " who and what art thou?"— 

' ' The daughter of one of the Gothic princes who lately ruled 
over this land. The armies of my father have been destroyed 
as if by magic among these mountains, he has been driven into 
exile, and his daughter is a slave. " 

"Be comforted, beautiful princess— thou art no longer a 
slave, but a sovereign ; turn thine eyes graciously upon Aben 
Habuz, and reign over him and his dominions." 

"Beware, O* king," whispered Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayrib; 
" this may be some spirit conjured up by the magicians of the 
Goths, and sent for thy undoing. Or it may be one of those 
northern sorceresses, who assume the most seducing forms to 
beguile the unwary. Methinks I read witchcraft in her eye, 
and sorcery in every movement. Let my sovereign beware — 
this must be the enemy pointed out by the talisman. " "Son 
of Abu Ayub," replied the king, " you are a wise man and a 
conjuror, I grant — but you are little versed in the ways of 
woman. In the knowledge of the sex, I will yield to no man ; 
no, not to the wise Solomon himself, notwithstanding the 
number of his wives and his concubines. As to this damsel, 
I see much comfort in her for my old days, even such comfort 
as David, the father of Solomon, found in the society of 
Abishag the Shunamite." 

" Hearken, O king," rejoined the astrologer, suddenly change 
ing his tone — ' ' I have given thee many triumphs over thy 
enemies, and by means of my talisman, yet thou hast never 
given me share of the spoils ; grant me this one stray captive 
to solace me in m.y retirement, and I am content. " 

" What I" cried Aben Habuz, "more women! hast thou not 



THE LEGEIW OF THE ARABIAN ASTIWLOQER. 8B 

already dancing women to solace thee — what more wouidst 
thou desire." 

* ' Dancing women, have I, it is true ; but I have none that 
sing; and music is a balm to old age.— This captive, I perceive, 
beareth a silver lyre, and must be skilled in minstrelsy. Give 
her to me, I i)ray thee, to soothe my senses after the toil of 
study." 

The ire of the pacific monarch was kindled, and he loaded 
the philosopher with reproaches. The latter retired indig- 
nantly to his hermitage; but ere he departed, he again 
warned the monarch to bev^^are of his beautiful captive. 
Where, in fact, is the old man in love that w^ill listen to coun- 
sel? Aben Habuz had felt the fulFpower of the witchery of 
the eye, and the sorcery of movement, and the more he gazed, 
the more he was enamoured. 

He resig:ned himself to the full sway of his passions. His 
only study, was how to render himself amiable in the eyes of' 
the Gothic beauty. He had not youth, it is true, to recom- 
mend him, but then he had riches ; and when a lover is no 
longer young, he becomes generous. The Zacatin of Granada 
was ransacked for the most precious merchandise of the East. 
Silks, jewels, precious gems and exquisite perfumes, all that 
Asia anci Africa yielded of rich and rare, were lavished upon 
the princess. She received all as her due, and regarded them 
with the indifference of one accustomed to magnificence. All 
kinds of spectacles and festivities were devised for her enter- 
tainment; minstrelsy, dancing, tournaments, bull-fights. — 
Granada, for a time, was a scene of perpetual pageant. The 
Gothic princess seemed to take a delight in causing expense, 
as if she sought to drain the treasures of the monarch. There 
were no bounds to her caprice, or to the extravagance of her 
ideas. Yet, notwithstanding all this munificence, the vener- 
able Aben Habuz could not flatter himself that he had made 
any impression on her heart. She never frowned on him, it is 
true, but she had a singular way of bafiling his tender ad- 
vances. Whenever he began to plead his passion, she struck 
her silver lyre. There was a mystic charm in the sound : on 
hearing of it, an irresistible drowsiness seized upon the super 
annuated lover, he fell asleep, and only woke when the tempo- 
rary fumes of passion had evaporated. Still the dream of love 
had a bewitching power over his senses ; so he continued to 
dream on ; while all Granada scoffed at his infatuation, and 
gi'oaned at the treasures lavished for a song. 



84 THE ALHAhSRA. 

At length a danger burst over t^.e head of Aben Habuz, 
against which his talisman yielded him no warning. A re- 
beilion broke out in the very heart of his capital, headed by 
the bold Rodovan. Aben Habuz was, for a time, besieged in 
his palace, and it was not without the greatest difficulty that 
he repelled his assailants and quelled the insurrection. 

He now felt himself compelled once more to resort to the 
assistance of the astrologer. He found him still shut up in his 
hermitage, chewing the cud of resentment. "O wise son of 
Abu Ayub," said he, "what thou hast foretold, has, in some 
sort; come to pass. This Gothic princess has brought trouble 
and danger upon me." 

'* Is the kmg then disposed to put her away from him?" said 
the astrologer with animation. 

"Sooner would I part with my kingdom!" replied Aben 
Habuz. 

" What then is the need of disturbing me in my philosoph- 
ical retirement?" said the astrologer, peevishly. 

" Be not angry, O sagest of philosophers. I would fain have 
one more exertion of thy magic art. Devise some means hj 
which I may be secure from internal t?*eason, as well as out- 
ward war— some safe retreat, v^here I may take refuge and be 
at peace." 

The astrologer ruminated for a moment, and a subtle gleam 
shone from his eye under his busy eyebrows. 

"Thou hast heard, no doubt, O king," said he, "of the 
palace and garden of Irem, whereof mention is made in that 
chapter of the Koran entitled ' the dawn of day.' " 

"I have heard of that garden, — marvellous things are 
related of it by the pilgrims who visit Mecca, but I have 
thought them wild fables, such as those are prone to tell who 
visit remote regions. " 

" Listen, O king, and thou shalt know the mystery of that 
garden. In my younger days I was in Arabia the Happy, 
tending my father's camels. One of them strayed away from 
the rest, and was lost. I searched for it for several days about 
the deserts of Aden, until wearied and faint, I laid myseh' 
down and slept under a palm tree by the side of a scanty well. 
When I awoke, I found myself at the gate of a city. I entered 
and beheld noble streets and squares and market places, but 
all were silent and without an inhabitant. I wandered on 
until I came to a sumptuous palace, with a garden adorned 
with foxmtains and fish-ponds; and groves and flowers; and 



THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. 85 

orchards laden with delicious fruit ; but still no one was to be 
seen. TJnon which, appalled at this loneliness, I hastened to 
depart, and, after issuing forth at the gate of the city, I turned 
to look upon the place, but it was no longer to be seen, nothing 
but the silent desert extended before my eyes. 

" In the neighbourhood I met with an aged dervise, learned 
in the traditions and secrets of the land, and related to him 
what had befallen me. 'This, 'said he, ' is the far-famed gar- 
den of Irem, one of the wonders of the desert. It only appears 
at times to some wanderer like thyself, gladdening him with 
the sight of towers and palaces, and garden walls overhung 
with richly laden fruit trees, and then vanishes, leaving 
nothing but a lonely desert.— And this is the story of it:— In 
old times, when this country was inhabited by the Addilels, 
king Sheddad, the son of Ad, the great grandson of Noah, 
founded here a splendid city. When it was finished, and he 
saw its grandeur, his heart was puffed up with pride and arro- 
gance, and he determined to build a royal palace, with gardens 
that should rival all that was related in the Koran of the celes- 
tial paradise. But the curse of heaven fell upon him for his 
presumption. He and his subjects were swept from the earth, 
and his splendid city, and palace, and garden, were laid under 
a perpetual spell, that hides them from the human sight, ex- 
cepting that they are seen at intervals ; by way of keeping his 
sin in perpetual remembrance.' 

"This story, king, and the wonders I had seen, ever dwell 
in my mind, and, in after years, when I had been in Egypt 
and made myself master of aU kinds of magic spells, I deter- 
mined to return and visit the garden of Irem. I did so, and 
found it revealed to my instructed sight. I took possession of 
the palace of Sheddad, and passed several days in his mock 
paradise. The genii who watch over the place, were obedient 
to my magic power, and revealed to me the spells by which 
the whole garden had been, as it were, conjured into existence, 
and by which it was rendered invisible. Such spells, O king, 
are within the scope of my art. What say est thou? Wouldst 
thou have a palace and garden like those of Irem, filled with 
all manner of delights, but hidden from the eyes of mortals?" 

" O wise son of Abu Ayub," exclaimed Aben Habuz, trem- 
bling with eagerness — " Contrive me such a paradise, and ask 
any reward, even to the half of my kingdom." 

"Alas," replied the other, " thou knowest I am an old man, 
and a philosopher, and easily satisfied ; all the reward I ask, ia 



86 THE ALHAMBRA. 

the first beast of burden, with its load, that shall enter the 
magic portal of the palace." 

The monarch gladly agreed to so moderate a stipulation, and 
the astrologer began his work. On the summit of the hiLl im- 
mediately above his subterranean hermitage he caused a great 
gateway or barbican to be erected ; opening through the centre 
of a strong tower. There was an outer vestibule or x^orch with 
a lofty arch, and within it a portal secured by massive gates. 
On the key-stone of the portal the astrologer, with his own 
hand, wrought the figure of a huge key, and on the key-stone' 
of the outer arch of the vestibule, which was loftier than that 
of the portal, he carved a gigantic hand. These were potent 
talismans, over which he repeated many sentences in an un- 
known tongue. 

When this gateway was finished, he shut himself up for two 
days in his astrological hall, engaged in secret incantations; 
on the third he ascended the hill, and passed the whole day on 
its summit. At a late hour of the night, he came down and 
presented himself before Aben Habuz. " At length, O king," 
said he, "my labour is accomplished. On the summit of the 
hill stands one of the most delectable palaces that ever the 
head of man devised, or the heart of man desired. It contains 
sumptuous halls and galleries, delicious gardens, cool fountains 
and fragrant baths; in a word, the whole mountain is con- 
verted into a paradise. Like the garden of Irem, it is pro- 
tected by a mighty charm, which hides it from the view and 
search of mortals, excepting such as possess the secret of its 
talismans." 

"Enough," cried Aben Habuz, joyfully; " to-morrow morn- 
ing, bright and early, we will ascend and take possession." 
The happy monarch scarcely slept that night. Scarcely had 
the rays of the sun begun to play about the snowy summit of 
the Sierra Nevada, when he mounted his steed, and accom- 
panied only by a few chosen attendants, ascended a steep and 
narrow road leading up the hill. Beside him on a white pal- 
fi'ey, rode the Gothic princess, her dress sparkling with jewels, 
while round her neck was suspended her silver lyre. The 
astrologer walked on the other side of the king, assisting his 
steps with his hieroglyphic staff, for he never mounted steed of 
any kind. 

Aben Habuz looked to see the towers of the promised palace 
brightening above him, and the embowered terraces of its gar- 
dens stretching along the heights, but as yet, nothing of the 



THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. 87 

kind was to be descried. " That is the mystery and safeguard 
of the place," said the astrologer, "nothing can be discerned 
imtil you have passed the spell-bound gateway, and been put 
in possession of the place." 

As they approached the gateway, the astrologer paused, and 
pointed out to the king the mystic hand and key carved upon 
the portal and the arch. "These," said he, "are the tahsmans 
which guard the entrance to this paradise. Until yonder hand 
shall reach down and seize that key, neither mortal power, nor 
magic artifice, can prevail against the lord of this mountain." 

While Aben Habuz was gazing with open mouth and silent 
wonder at these mystic talismans, the palfrey of the princess 
proceeded on, and bore her in at the portal, to the very centra 
of the barbican. 

"Behold," cried the astrologer, "my promised reward I— tho 
first animal with its burden, that should enter the magic gate- 
way." 

Aben Habuz smiled at what he considered a pleasantry of 
the ancient man ; but when he found him to be in earnest, his 
gi'ay beard trembled with indignation. 

"Son of Abu Ayub," said he, sternly, " what equivocation is 
this? Thou knowest the meaning of my promise, the first 
beast of burden, with its load, that should enter this portal. 
Take the strongest mule in my stables, load it with the most 
precious things of my treasury, and it is thine ; but dare not to 
raise thy thoughts to her, who is the dehght of my heart." 

"What need I of wealth," cried the astrologer, scornfully; 
"have I not the book of knowledge of Solomon the Wise, 
and through it, the command of the secret treasures of the 
earth? The princess is mine by right; thy royal word is 
pledged; I claim her as my own." 

The princess sat upon her palfrey, in the pride of youth 
and beauty, and a light smile of scorn curled her rosy lip, at 
this dispute between two gray beards for her charms. The 
wrath of the monarch got the better of his discretion. "Baee 
son of the desert," cried he, " thou mayest be master of many 
arts, ]3ut know me for thy master — and presume not to juggle 
witii ihy king." 

' ' My master !" echoed the astrologer, ' ' my king ! The mon 
arch of a mole-hill to claim sway over him who possesses the 
talismans of Solomon. Farewell, Aben Habuz ; reign over thy 
petty kingdom, and revel in thy paradise of fools— ^ior me, I 
will laugh at thee in my philosophic retirement." 



88 THE ALHAMBRA, 

So saying, he seized the bridle of the palfrey, smote the 
earth with his staff, and sank with the Gothic princess through 
the centre of the barbican. The earth closed over them, and 
no trace remained of the opening by which they had descended. 
Aben Habuz was struck dumb for a time with astonishmont. 
Recovering himself he ordered a thousand workmen to dig 
with pickaxe and spade into the ground where the astrologer 
>had di-: appeared. They digged and digged, but in vain; the 
flinty bosom of the hill resisted their implements ; or if they 
did penetrate a little way, the earth filled in again as fast as 
they threw it out. Aben Habuz sought the mouth of the c?.v- 
ern at the foot of the hill, leading to the subterranean palace 
of the astrologer, but it was no where to be found : where once 
had been an entrance, was now a solid surface of primeval 
rock. With the disappearance of Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub 
ceased the benefit of his talismans. The bronze horseman re- 
mained fixed with his face turned toward the hill, and his spear 
pointed to the spot where the astrologer had descended, as 
if there still lurked the deadliest foe of Aben Habuz. From 
time to time the sound of music and the tones of a female voice 
could be faintly heard from the bosom of the hill, and a peasant 
one day brought word to the king, that in the preceding night 
he had found a fissure m the rock, by which he had crept in 
until he looked down into a subterranean hall, in which sat 
the astrologer on a magnificent divan, slumbering and nodding 
to the silver lyre of the princess, which seemed to hold a magic 
sway over his senses. 

Aben Habuz sought tor the fissure in the rock, but it was 
again closed. He renewed the attempt to unearth his rival, 
bmt all in vain. The spell of the hand and key was too potent 
to be counteracted by human power. As to the summit of the 
mountain, the site of the proaiiised palace and garden, it re- 
mained a naked waste : either the boasted Elysium was hidden 
from sight by enchantment, or was a mere fable of the astrolo- 
ger. The world charitably supposed the latter, and some used 
to call the place "the king's folly," while others named it " the 
fool's Paradise." 

To add to the chagrin of Aben Habuz, the neighbours, whom 
he had defied ana taunted, and cut up at his leisure, while 
master of the talismanic horseman, finding liim no longer pro* 
tected by magic spell, made inroads into his territories from 
all sides, and the remainder of the life of the most pacific oi 
monarchs, was a tissue of turmoils 



LL'GEyj) OF IRE THREE BEAUTIFUL PMIUCESSES. 89 

At length, Aben Habuz died and was buried. Ages have 
f>ince rolled away. The Alhambra has been built on the event- 
ful mountain, and i^ some measure realizes the fabled dehghts 
of the garden of Irem. The spell-bound gateway still exists, 
protected, no doubt, by the mystic hand and key, and now 
forms the gate of justice, the grand entrance' to the fortress. 
Under that gateway, it is said, the old astrologer remains in 
his subterranean hall ; nodding on his divan, lulled by the sil- 
ver lyre of the princess. 

The old invalid sentinels, who mount guard at the gate, hear 
the strains occasionally in the summer nights, and, yielding to 
their soporific power, doze quietly at their posts. Nay, so 
drowsy an influence pervades the place, that even those who 
watch by day, may generally be seen nodding on the stone 
benches of the barbican, or sleeping under the neighbouring 
trees ; so that it is, in fact, the drowsiest military post in all 
Christendom. All this, say the legends, will endure; from 
age to age the princess will remain captive to the astrologer, 
and the astrologer bound up in magic slumber by the princess, 
until the last day ; unless the mystic hand shall grasp the fated 
key, and dispel the whole charm of this enchanted mountain. 



LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 

In old times there reigned a Moorish king in Granada, whose 
name was Mohamed, to which his subjects added the appella- 
tion of el Haygari, or " the left-handed." Some say he was so 
called, on account of his being really more expert with his sin- 
ister, than his dexter hand; others, because he was prone to 
take everything by the wrong end ; or, in other words, to mar 
wherever he m.eddled. Certain it is, either through misfortune 
or mismanagement, he was continually in trouble. Thrice was 
he driven from his throne, and on one occasion barely escaped 
to Africa with his hfe, in the disguise of a fisherman. Still he 
was as brave as he was blundering, and, though left-handed, 
wielded his scimitar to such purpose, that he each time re- 
established himself upon his throne, by dint of hard fighting. 
Instead, however, of learning wisdom from adversity, he 
hardened his neck, and stiffened his left-arm in wiKulness. 
The evils of a public nature which he thus brought upon him 



90 THE ALHAMBRA. 

self and his kingdom, naay be learned by those who will delve 
into the Arabian annals of Granada; the present legend deals 
but with his domestic policy. 

As this Mohamed was one day riding forth, with a train of 
his courtiers, by the foot of the mountain of Elvira, he met a 
band of horsemeii returning "from a foray into the land of the 
Christians. They were conducting a long string of mules laden 
with spoil, and many captives of both sexes, among whom, the 
monarch was struck with the appearance of a beautiful damsel 
richly attired, who sat weeping, on a low palfrey, and heeded 
not the consoling words of a duenna, who rode beside her. 

The monarch was struck with her beauty, and on inquiring 
of tlio captain of the troop, found that she was the daughter of 
the alcayde of a frontier fortress that had been surprised and 
sacked in the course of the foray. 

?»Iohamed claimed her as his royal share of the booty, and 
had her conveyed to his harem in the Alhambra. There every 
thing was devised to soothe her melancholy, and the monarch, 
more and more enamoured, sought to make her his queen. 

The Spanish maid at first repulsed his addresses. He was 
an infidel— he Avas the open foe of her country— what was 
worse, he was stricken in years ! 

The monarch finding his assiduities of no avail, determined 
to enlist in his favour the duenna, who had been captured with 
the lady. She was an Andalusian by birth, whose Christian 
name is forgotten, being mentioned in Moorish legends, by no 
other appellation than that of the discreet Cadiga — and dis- 
creet, in truth she was, as her whole history makes evident. 
No sooner had the Moorish king held a little private conversa- 
tion with her, than she saw at once the cogency of his reason- 
ing, and undertook his cause with her young mistress. 

" Go to, now !" cried she ; "what is there in all this to weep 
and wail about?— Is it not better to be mistress of this beautiful 
palace with all its gardens and fountains, than to be shut up 
within your father's old frontier tower? As to this Mohamed 
being an infidel — what is that to the purpose? You marry him 
— not his religion. And if he is waxing a little old, the sooner 
will you be a widow and mistress of yourself. At any rate you 
are in his i^ower — and must either be a queen or a slave. — 
When in the hands of a robber, it is better to sell one's mer- 
chandies for a fair price, than to have it taken by main force." 

The arguments of the discreet Cadiga prevailed. The Span- 
ish lady dried her tears and became the spouse of Mohamed 



LEGEND _ OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 91 

the left-handed. She even conformed in appearance to the 
faith of her royal husband, and her discreet duenna inunedi- 
ately became a zealous convert to the Moslem doctrines; it 
was then the latter received the Arabian name of Cadiga, and 
was permitted to remain in the confidential employ of her 
mistress. 

In due process of time, the Moorish king was made the 
proud and happy father of three lovely daughters, all born at 
a birth. He could have wished they had been sons, but con- 
soled himself with the idea that three daughters at a birth, 
were pretty well for a man somewhat stricken in years, and 
left-handed. 

As usual with all Moslem monarchs, he summoned his 
astrologers on this happy event. They cast the nativities of 
the three princesses, and shook their heads. "Daughters, 
O king," said they, "are always precarious property; but 
these will most need your watchfulness when they arrive at a 
marriageable age.— At that time gather them under your 
wing, and trust them to no other guardianship." 

Mohamed the left-handed was acknowledged by his courtiers 
to be a wise king, and was certainly so considered by himself. 
The prediction of the astrologers caused him but little disquiet, 
trusting to his ingenuity to guard his daughters and outwit 
the fates. 

The threefold birth was the last matrimonial trophy of the 
monarch; his queen bore him no more children, and died 
within a few years, bequeathing her infant daughters to his 
love, and to the fidelity of the discreet Cadiga. 

Many years had yet to elapse before the princesses would 
arrive at that period of danger, the marriageable age. "It is 
good, however, to be cautious in time," said the shrewd mon- 
arch ; so he determined to have them reared m. the royal castle 
of Salobrena. This was a sumptuous palace, incrusted as it 
were in a powerful Moorish fortress, on the summit of a hill 
that overlooks the Mediterranean sea. 

It was a royal retreat, in which the Moslem monarchs shut 
up such of their relations as might endanger their safety; 
allowing them aU kinds of luxuries and amusements, in the 
midst of which they passed their fives in voluptuous indolence. 

Here the princesses remained, immured from the world, but 
surrounded by enjoyments; and attended by female slaves 
vyrho anticipated their wishes. They had defightful gardens 
for their recreation, filled with the rarest fruits and flowers, 



92 THE ALHAMBBA. 

with aromatic groves and perfumed baths. On three sides the 
castle looked down upon a rich valley, enamelled with all 
kinds of culture, and bounded by the lofty Alpuxarra moun- 
tains ; on the other side it overlooked the broad sunny sea. 

In this delicious abode, in a propitious climate and under 
a cloudless sky, the three princesses grew up into wondrous 
beauty; but, though all reared alike, they gave early tokens 
of diversity of character. Their names were Zayda, Zorayda, 
and Zorahayda ; and such was the order of seniority, for there 
had been precisely three minutes between their births. 

Zayda, the eldest, was of an intrepid spirit, and took the 
lead of her sisters in every thing, as she had done in entering 
first into the world. She was curious and inquisitive, and 
fond of getting at the bottom of things. 

Zorayda had a great feeling for beauty, which was the 
reason, no doubt, of her delighting to regard her ov/n image 
in a mirror or a fountain, and of her fondness for flowers and 
jewels, and other tasteful ornaments. 

As to Zorahayda, the youngest, she was soft and timid, and 
extremely sensitive, with a vast deal of disposable tenderness, 
as was evident from her number of pet flowers, and pet birds, 
and pet animals, all of which she cherished with the fondest 
care. Her amusements, too, were of a gentle nature, and 
mixed up with musing and reverie. She would sit for hours 
in a balcony gazing on the, sparkling stars of a summer night; 
or on the sea when lit up by the moon, and at such times the 
song of a fisherman faintly heard from the beach, or the notes 
of an arrafia or Moorish flute from some gliding bark, sufficed 
to elevate her feelings into ecstasy. The least uproar of the 
elements, however, filled her with dismay, and a clap of thun- 
der was enough to throw her into a swoon. 

Years moved on serenely, and Cadiga, to whom the prin- 
cesses were confided, was faithful to her trust and attended 
Oem with unremitting care. 

The castle of Salobreiia, as has been said, was built upon a 
hill on the sea coast. One of the exterior walls straggled down 
the profile of the hill, until it reached a jutting rock overhang- 
ing the sea, with a narrow sandy beach at its foot, laved by 
the rippling billows. A small watch tower on this rock had 
been fitted up as a pavilion, with latticed windows to admit 
the sea breeze. Here the princesses used to pass the sultry 
hours of mid-day. 

The curious Zayda was one day seated at one of the windows 



LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 93 

of the paviKon, as her sisters, reclined on ottomans, were tak- 
ing the siesta, or noon-tide slumber. Her attention had been 
attracted to a galley, which came coasting along, with meas- 
m:ed strokes of the oar. As it drew near, she observed that it 
was filled with armed men. The galley anchored at the foot 
of the tower : a number of Moorish soldiers landed on the nar- 
row beach, conducting several Christian prisoners. The curi- 
ous Zayda awakened her sisters, and all three peeped cau- 
tiously through the close jalousies of the lattice, which 
screened them from sight. Among the prisoners were three 
Spanish cavahers, richly dressed. They were in the flower of 
youth, and of noble presence, and the lofty manner in which 
they carried themselves, though loaded with chains and sur- 
rounded with enemies, bespoke the grandeur of their souls. 
The princesses gazed with intense and breathless interest. 
Cooped up as they had been in tliis castle among female at- 
tendants, seeing nothing of the male sex but black slaves, or 
the rude fishermen of the sea coast, it is not to be wondered 
at, that the appearance of three gallant cavaliers in the pride 
of youth and manly beauty should produce some commotion 
in their bosoms. 

*' Did ever nobler being tread the earth, than that cavalier in 
crimson?" cried Zayda, the eldest of the sisters. "See how 
proudly he bears himself, as though all around him were h 
slaves !" 

*'But notice that one in green," exclaimed Zorayda; *' wha. 
grace ! what elegance ! what spirit !" 

The gentle Zorahayda said nothing, but she secretly gav« 
preference to the cavalier in green. 

The princesses remained gazing until the prisoners were out 
of sight ; then heaving long-drawn sighs, they turned round, 
looked at each other for a moment, and sat down musing and 
pensive on their ottomans. 

The discreet Cadiga found them in this situation; they re- 
lated to her what they had seen, and even the withered heart 
of the duenna was warmed. " Poor youths!" exclaimed she, 
" I'll warrant their captivity makes many a fair and high-born 
lady's heart ache in their native land ! Ah, my children, you 
have little idea of the life these cavaliers lead in their own 
country. Such prankling at tournaments I such devotion to 
the ladies ! such courting and serenading !" 

The curiosity of Zayda was fully aroused. She was in- 
satiable in her inquiries, and drew from the duenna the most 



94 TEE ALHAMBRA. 

animated pictures of the scenes of her youthful days and 
native land. The beautiful Zorayda bridled up, and slyly re- 
garded herself in a mirror, when the theme turned upon the 
charms of the Spanish ladies ; while Zorahayda suppressed a 
strugghng sigh at the mention of moonlight serenades. 

Every day the curious Zayda renewed her inquiries; and 
every day the sage duenna repeated her stories, which were 
listened to with unmoved interest, though frequent sighs, by 
her gentle auditors. The discreet old woman at length awak- 
ened to the mischief she might be doing. She had been ac- 
customed to think of the princesses only as children, but they 
had imperceptibly ripened beneath her eye, and now bloomed 
before her three lovely damsels of the marriageable age. — It is 
time, thought the duenna, to give notice to the king. 

Mohamed the left-handed was seated one morning on a 
divan in one of the court halls of the Alhambra, when a noble 
arrived from the fortress of Salobreiia, with a message from 
the sage Cadiga, congratulating him on the anniversary of his 
daughters' birth-day. The slave at the same time presented a 
delicate little basket decorated with flowers, within which, on 
a couch of vine and fig leaves, lay a peach, an apricot, and a 
nectarine, with their bloom and down, and dewy sweetness 
upon them, and aU in the early stage of tempting ripeness. 
The monarch was versed in the oriental language of fruits and 
flowers, and readily divined the meaning of this emblematical 
offering. 

''So," said he, "the critical period pointed out by the as- 
trologers is arrived. — My daughters are at a marriageable age. 
What is to be done? They are shut up from the eyes of men. — 
they are under the eye of the discreet Cadiga— all very good — 
but still they are not under my own eye, as was prescribed by 
the astrologers. — 'I must gather them under my wing, and 
trust to no other guardianship.' " 

So saying, he ordered that a tower of the Alhambra should 
be prepared for their reception, and departed at the head of 
his guards for the fortress of Salobreiia, to conduct them home 
in person. 

About three years had elapsed since Mohamed had beheld 
his daughters, and he could scarcely credit his eyes at the 
wonderful change which that small space of time had made in 
their appearance. During the interval they had passed that 
wondrous boundary Hne in female life, which separates the 
crude, unformed, and thoughtless girl from the blooming, 



LEG END OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCE1SS^8, 95 

blushing, meditative woman. It is like passing from the flat, 
bleak, uninteresting plains of La Mancha to the voluptuous 
valleys and swelling hills of Andalusia. 

Zayda was tall and finely formed, 's\dth a lofty demeanour 
and a penetrating eye. She entered with a stately and decided 
step, and made a profoimd reverence to Mohamed, treating 
him more as her sovereign than her father. Zorayda was of 
the middle height, with an alluring look and swimmiMg gait, 
and a sparkhng beauty heightened by the assistance of the 
toilette. She approached her father with a smile, kissed his 
hand, and saluted him with several stanzas from a popular 
Arabian poet, with which the monarch was delighted. Zora- 
hayda was shy and timid ; smaller than her sisters, and with 
a beauty of that tender, beseeching kind which looks for fond- 
ness and protection. She was little fitted to command hke 
her elder sister, or to dazzle hke the second ; but was rather 
formed to creep to the bosom of manly affection, to nestle 
within it, and be content. She drew near her father with a 
timid and almost faltering step, and woiild have taken his 
hand to kiss, but on looking up into his face, and seeing it 
beaming with a paternal smile, the tenderness of her nature 
broke forth, and she threw herself upon his neck. 

Mohamed, the left-handed, surveyed his blooming daughters 
with mingled pride and perplexity; for while he exulted in 
their charms, he bethought himself of the prediction of the 
astrologers. "Three daughters! — three daughters !" muttered 
he, repeatedly to himself, "and all of a marriageable age! 
Here's tempting hesperian fruit,' that requires a dragon w^atch !'* 

He prepared for his return to Granada, by sending heralds 
before him, commanding every one to keep out of the road by 
which he was to pass, and that all doors and windows should 
be closed at the approach of the princesses. This done, he set 
forth escorted by a troop of black horsemen of liideous aspect, 
and clad in shining armour. 

The princesses rode beside the king, closely veiled, on beauti- 
ful white palfreys, with velvet caparisons embroidered with 
gold, and sweeping the ground ; the bits and stirrups were of 
gold, and the silken bridles adorned -^vith pearls and precious 
stones. The palfreys were covered with little silver bells that 
made the most musical tinkling as they ambled gently along. 
Wo to the unlucky wicrht, however, who lingered in the way 
when he heard the tinkling of these bells — the guards were or^ 
dared to cut him down without mercy. 



96 THE ALHAMBHA. 

The cavalcade was drawing near to Granada, when it over- 
took, on the banks of the river Xenil, a small body of Moorish 
soldiers, with a convoy of prisoners. It was too late for the 
soldiers to get out of the way, so they threw themselves on 
their faces on the earth, ordering their captives to do the like. 
Among the prisoners, were the three identical cavaliers whom 
the princesses had seen from the pavilion. They either did 
not understand, or were too haughty to obey the order, and 
remained standing and gazing upon the cavalcade as it ap- 
proached. 

The ire of the monarch was kindled at this flagrant defiance 
of his orders, and he determined to punish it with his own 
hand. Drawing his scimitar and pressing forward, he was 
about to deal a left-handed blow, that would have been fatal 
to at least one of the gazers, when the princesses crowded 
round him, and implored mercy for the prisoners ; even the 
timid Zorahayda forgot her shyness and became eloquent in 
their behalf. Mohamed paused, with uplifted scimitar, when 
the captain of the guard threw himself at his feet. "Let not 
your majesty," said he, "do a deed that may cause great 
scandal throughout the kingdom. These are three brave and 
noble Spanish knights who have been taken in battle, fighting 
hke lions ; they are of high birth, and may bring great ran- 
soms." 

"Enough," said the king; "I will spare their lives, but 
punish their audacity — let them be taken to the Vermilion 
towers and put to hard labour." 

Mohamed was making one of his usual left-handed blunders. 
In the tumult and agitation of this blustering scene, the veils 
of the three princesses had been thrown back, and the radi- 
ance of their beauty revealed ; and in prolonging the parley, 
the king had given that beauty time to have its full effect. 
In those days, people fell in love much more suddenly than 
at present, as all ancient stories make manifest; it is not 
a matter of wonder, therefore, that the hearts of the three 
cavahers were completely captivated; especially as grati-= 
tude was added to their admiration: it is a little singular, 
however, though no less certain, that each of them was 
enraptured wi»th a several beauty. As to the princesses, 
they were more than ever struck with the noble demeanour 
of the captives, and cherished in their hearts all that they 
had heard of their valour and noble lineage. 

The cavalcade resumed its march; the three princesses 



I LKaEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 97 

irode pensively along on their tinkling palfreys, now and 
ihen stealing a glance behind in search of the Christian 
captives, and the latter were conducted to their allotted 
prison in the Vermilion towers. 

, The residence provided for the princesses, was one of the 
I most dainty that fancy could devise. It was in a tower 
■ somewhat apart from the main palace of the Alhambra, 
though connected with it by the main wall that encircled 
I the whole summit of the hill. On one side it looked into 
the interior of the fortress, and had at its foot a small gar- 
den filled with the rarest flowers. On the other side it over- 
looked a deep embowered ravine, that separated the grounds 
of the Alhambra from those of the Generaliffe. The interior 
of the tower was divided into small fairy apartments, beauti- 
fully ornamented in the light Arabian style, surrounding a 
lofty hall, the vaulted roof of which rose almost to the summit 
of the tower. The walls and ceiling of the hall were adorned 
with arabesques and fret- work sparkling with gold, and with 
brilliant pencilling. In the centre of the marble pavement, 
was an alabaster fountain, set round with aromatic shrubs 
and flowers, and throwing up a jet of water that cooled the 
whole edifice and had a lulling sound. Round the hall were 
suspended cages of gold and silver wire, containing singing 
birds of the finest plumage or sweetest note. 

The princesses having beeii represented as always cheerful 
when in the castle of Salobreiia, the king had expected to 
see them enraptured with the Alhambra. To his surprise, 
however, they began to pine, and grew green and melancholy, 
and dissatisfied with every thing around them. The flowers 
yielded them no fragrance; the song of the nightingale dis- 
turbed their night's rest, and they were out of all patience 
with the alabaster fountain, with its eternal drop, drop, and 
splash, splash, from morning till night, and from night till 
morning. 

The king, who was somewhat of a testy, tyrannical old man, 
took this at first in high dudgeon; but he reflected that his 
daughters had arrived at an age when the female mind 
expands and its desires augment. "They are no longer 
children," said he to himself; "they are women grown, and 
require suitable objects to interest them." He put in requisi- 
tion, therefore, all the dress makers, and the jewellers, and 
the artificers in gold and silver throughout the Zacatin of 
Granada^ and the princesses were overwhelmed with robes 



98 THE ALHAMBRA. 

of silk, and of tissue and of brocade, and cachemire shawls, 
and necklaces of pearls, and diamonds, and rings, and brace- 
lets, and anklets, and all manner of precious things. 

All, however, was of no avail. The princesses continued 
pale and languid in the midst of their finery, and looked hke 
three blighted rose buds, drooping from one stalk. The king 
was at his wit's end. He had in general a laudable confidence 
in his own judgment, and never took advice. "The whims 
and caprices of three marriageable damsels, however, are 
sufiicient," said he, " to puzzle the shrewdest head."— So, for 
once in his hfe, he called in the aid of counsel. 

The person to whom he applied was the experienced duenna. 

" Cadiga," said the king, "I know you to be one of the most 
discreet women in the whole world, as well as one of the most 
trustworthy; for these reasons, I have always continued you 
about the persons of my daughters. Fathers cannot be too 
wary in whom they repose such confidence. I now wish you 
to find out the secret malady that is preying upon the prin- 
cesses, and to devise some means of restoring them to health 
and cheerfulness." 

Cadiga promised implicit obedience. In fact, she knew 
more of the malady of the princesses than they did them- 
selves. Shutting herself up with them, however, she endea- 
voured to insinuate herseK into their confidence. 

"My dear children, what is the reason you are so dismal 
and downcast, in so beautiful a place, where you have every 
thing that heart can wish?" 

The princesses looked vacantly round the apartment, and 
sighed. 

"What more, then, would jou have? Shall I get you the 
wonderful parrot that talks all languages, and is the delight of 
Granada?" 

' ' Odious !" exclaimed the princess Zayda. ' ' A horrid scream- 
ing bird that chatters words without ideas! One must be 
without brains to tolerate such a pest." 

"Shall I send for a monkey from the rock of Gibraltar, to 
divert you with his antics?" 

"A monkey! faugh!" cried Zorayda, " the detestable mimic 
of man. I hate the nauseous animal." 

"What say you to the famous black singer, Casern, from 
the royal harem in Morocco. They say he has a voice as fine 
as a woman's." 

"I am terrified at the sight of these black slaves," said the 



LEG Els' D OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 99 

delicate Zorahayda; "besides, I have lost all relish for 
music." 

"Ah, my child, you would not say so," replied the old 
woman, slyly, "had you heard the music I heard last even- 
ing, from the three Spanish cavaliers whom we met on our 
journey.— But bless me, children! what is the matter that 
you blush so, and are in such a flutter ?" 

"Nothmg, nothing, good mother, pray proceed." 

"Well— as I was passing by the Vermilion towers, last 
evening, I saw the three cavaliers resting after their day's 
labour. One was j)laying on the guitar so gracefully, and 
the others sang by turns— and they did it in such style, that 
the very guards seemed hke statues or men enchanted. Allah 
forgive me, I could not help being moved at hearing the songs 
of my native country. — And then to see three such noble and 
handsome youths in chains and slavery." 

Here the kind-hearted old woman could not restrain her tears. 

" Perhaps, mother, you could manage to procure us a sight 
of these cavaliers," said Zayda. 

"I think," said Zorayda, "a little music would be quite 
reviving." 

The timid Zorahayda said nothing, but threw her arms 
round the neck of Cadiga. 

" Mercy on me !" exclaimed the discreet old woman ; "what 
are you talking of, my children ? Your father would be the 
death of us all, if he heard of such a thing. To be sure, these 
cavaliers are evidently well-bred and high-minded youths— but 
what of that ! they are the enemies of our faith, and you must 
not even think of them, but with abhorrence." 

There is an admirable intrepidity in the female will, particu- 
larly about the marriageable age, which is not to be deterred 
by dangers and prohibitions. The princesses hang round their 
old duenna, and coaxed and entreated, and declared thtit a re- 
fusal would break their hearts. What could she do? She was 
certainly the most discreet old woman in the whole world, and 
one of the most faithful servants to the king— but was she to 
see three beautiful princesses break their hearts for the mere 
tinkling of a guitar? Beside, though she had been so long 
among the Moors, and changed her faith, in imitation of her 
mistress, like a trusty follower, yet she was a Spaniard born, 
and had the lingerings of Christianity in her heart. So she set 
about to contrive how the wishes of the princesses might be 
gratified. 



100 THE ALBAMBRA. 

The Christian captives confined in the Vermilion towers, 
were under the charge of a big-whiskered, broad-shouldered 
renegado, called Hussein Baba, who was reported to have a 
most itching palm. She went to him, privately, and shpping 
a broad piece of gold into his hand, " Hussein Baba," said she, 
''my mistresses, the three princesses, who are shut up in the 
tower, and in sad want of amusement, have heard of the musi- 
cal talents of the three Spanish cavaliers, and are desirous of 
hearing a specimen of their skill. I am sure you are too kind- 
hearted to refuse them so innocent a gratification. " 

" What, and to have my head set grinning over the gate of 
my own tower — for that would be the reward, if the king 
should discover it." 

"No danger of any thing of the kind; the affair may be 
managed so that the whim of the princesses may be gratified, 
and their father be never the wiser. You know the deep ra- 
vine outside of the walls, that passes immediately below the 
tower. Put the three Christians to work there, and at the in- 
tervals of their labour let them play and sing, as if for their 
own recreation. In this way, the princesses will be able to hear 
them from the windows of the tower, and you may be sure or 
their paying well for your compliance." 

As the good old woman concluded her harangue, she kindly 
pressed the rough hand of the renegado, and left within it an- 
other piece of gold. 

Her eloquence was irresistible. The very next day the three 
cavaliers were put to work in the ravine. During the noon- 
tide heat when their fellow labourers were sleeping in the 
shade, and the guard nodded drowsily at his post, they seated 
themselves among the herbage at the foot of the tower, and 
sang a Spanish roundelay to the accompaniment of the guitar. 

The glen was deep, the tower was high, but their voices rose 
distinctly in the stillness of the summer noon. The princesses 
listened from their balcony ; they had been taught the Spanish 
language by their duenna, and were moved by the tenderness 
of the song. 

The discreet Cadiga, on the contrary, was terribly shocked. 
" Allah preserve us," cried she, "they are singing a love ditty 
addressed to yourselves,— did ever mortal hear of such audac- 
ity? I will run to the slave master and have them soundly 
bastinadoed." 

" What, bastinado such gallant cavaliers, and for singing so 
cliArmingly?" The three beautiful princesses were filled mth 



LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PEINCESSFJS. 101 

horror at the idea. With all her virtuous indignation, the good 
old woman was of a placable nature and easily appeased. Be- 
side, the music seemed to have a beneficial effect upon her 
young mistresses. A rosy bloom had already come to their 
cheeks, and their eyes began to sparkle. She made no further 
objection, therefore, to the amorous ditty of the cavaliers. 

When it was finished, the princesses- remained silent for a 
time; at length Zorayda took up a lute, and with a sweet, 
though faint and trembling voice, warbled a little Arabian air, 
the burden of which was, "The rose is concealed among her 
leaves, but she hstens with delight to the song of the nightin- 
gale." 

From this time forward the cavaliers worked almost daily in 
the ravine. The considerate Hussein Baba became more and 
more indulgent, and daily more prone to sleep at his post. 
For some time a vague intercourse was kept up by popular 
songs and romances ; which in some measure responded to each 
other, and breathed the feelings of the parties. By degrees 
the princesses showed themselves at the balcony, when they 
could do so without being perceived by the guards. They con- 
versed with the cavaliers also by means of flowers, with the 
symbolical language of which they were mutually acquainted : 
the difficulties of their intercourse added to its charms, and 
strengthened the passion they had so singulaily conceived ; for 
love delights to struggle with difficulties, and thrives the most 
hardily on the scantiest soil. 

The change effected in th^ looks and spirits of the princesses 
by this secret intercourse, surprised and gratified the left- 
handed king ; but no one was more elated than the discreet 
Cadiga, who considered it all owing to her able manage- 
ment. 

At length there was an interruption in this telegraphic cor- 
respondence, for several days the cavaliers ceased to make 
their appearance in the glen. The three beautiful princesses 
looked out from the tower in vain. — In vain they stretched 
their swan-like necks from the balcony ; in vain they sang like 
captive nightingales in their cage ; nothing was to be seen of 
their Christian lovers, not a note responded from the groves. 
The discreet Cadiga sallied forth in quest of intelligence, and 
soon returned with a face full of trouble. " Ah, my children I" 
cried she, " I saw what all this would come to, but you would 
have your way ; you may now hang up your lutes on the wil- 
lows. The Spanish cavaliers are ransomed by their families ; 



IQ2 THE ALHAMBUA. 

Ihey are down in Granada, and preparing to return to theii 
native country." 

The three beautiful princesses were in despair at the tidings. 
The fair Zayda was indignant at the shght put upon them, in 
being thus deserted without a parting word. Zorayda rung her 
hands and cried, and looked in the glass, and wiped away her 
tears, and cried afresh. The gentle Zorahayda leaned over the 
balcony, and wept in silence, and her tears fell drop by drop, 
among the flowers of the bank where the faithless cavaliers 
had so often been seated. 

The discreet Cadiga did all in her power to soothe their sor- 
row. " Take comfort, my children," said she, " this is nothing 
when you are used to it. This is the way of the world. Ah, 
when you are as old as I am, you will know how to value these 
men. I'U warrant these cavaliers have their loves among the 
Spanish beauties of Cordova and Seville, and will soon be sere- 
nading under their balconies, and thinking no more of the 
Moorish beauties in the Alhambra.— Take comfort, therefore, 
my children, and drive them from your hearts." 

The comforting words of the discreet Cadiga only redoubled 
the distress of the princesses, and for two days they continued 
inconsolable. On the morning of the third, the good old woman 
entered their apartment all ruffling with indignation. 

" Wlio would have believed such insolence in mortal man?'* 
exclaimed she, as soon as she could find words to express her- 
^3elf ; "but I am rightly served for having connived at this de- 
ception of your worthy father — nqjt^er talk more to me of your 
Spanish cavaliers." 

"Why, what has happened, good Cadiga?" exclaimed the 
princesses, in breathless anxiety. 

"What has happened? treason has happened! — or what is 
almost as bad, treason has been proposed — and to me— the 
faithfulest of subjects— the trustiest of duennas— yes, my chil- 
dren — ^^the Spanish cavaliers have dared to tamper with me; 
fchat I should persuade you to fly with them to Cordova, and 
become their wives. " 

Here the excellent old woman covered her face with her 
hands, and gave way to a violent burst of grief and indigna- 
tion. 

The three beautiful princesses turned pale and red, and trem* 
bled, and looked down ; and cast shy looks at each other, but 
said nothing : meantime, the old vroman sat rocking backward 
and forward in violent agitation, and now and then breaking 



LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 103 

out into exclamations— "That ever I should live to be so in- 
sulted— I, the faithfulest of servants !" 

At length the eldest princess, who had most spirit, and always 
took the lead, approached her, and laying her hand upon her 
shoulder— "Well, mother," said she, "supposing we were will- 
ing to fly with these Christian cavaliers — is such a thing pos 
Bible?" 

The good old woman paused suddenly in her grief, and look 
ing up— "Possible!" echoed she, "to be sure it is possible. 
Have not the cavaliers already bribed Hussein Baba, the reno 
gado captain of the guard, and arranged the whole plan?— But 
then to tliink of deceiving your father — your father, who has 
placed such confidence in me?" 

Here the worthy old woman gave way to a fresh burst of 
grief, and began again to rock backwards and forwards, and to 
wring her hands. 

"But our father has never placed any confidence in us," said 
the eldest princess; "but has trusted to bolts and bars, and 
treated us as captives." 

"Why, that is true enough," replied the old woman, again 
pausing in her grief — "He has indeed treated you most unrea- 
sonably. Keeping you shut up here to waste your bloom in a. 
moping old tower, like roses left to wither in a flower jar. But 
then to fly from yoiu' native land." 

"And is not the land we fly to, the native land of our mother; 
where we shall live in freedom? — and shall we not each have a 
youthful husband in exchange for a severe old father?" 

"Why, tha?t again is all very true— and your father, I must 
confess, is rather tyrannical. — But what then" — relapsing into 
her grief — "would you leave me behind to bear the brunt of 
his vengeance?" 

" By no means, my good Cadiga. Cannot you fly with us?" 

"Very true, my child, and to tell the truth, when I talked 
the matter over with Hussein Baba, he promised to take care 
of me if I would accompany you in your flight : but then, be- 
tiiink you, my children ; are you willing to renounce the faith 
of your father?" 

"The Christian faith was the original faith of our mother," 
said the eldest princess; "I am ready to embrace it; and so J 
am sure are my sisters." 

"Right again!" exclaimed the old woman, brightening up. 
*'It was the original faith of your mother; and bitterly did she 
lament, on hor death-bed, that she had renounced it. I prom 



104 THE ALHAMBRA. 

ised her then to tako care of your souls, and I am rejoiced to 
see that they are now in a fair way to be saved. Yes, my chil- 
dren; I too was born a Christian — and have always been a 
Christian in my heart ; and am resolved to return to the faith. 
I have talked on the subject with Hussein Baba, who is a Span- 
iard by birth, and comes from a place not far from my native 
town. He is equally anxious to see his own country and to be 
reconciled to the church, and the cavahers have promised that 
if vre are disposed to become man and wife on returning to our 
native land, they will provide for us handsomely." 

In a word, it appeared that this extremely discreet and provi- 
dent old woman had consulted with the cavahers and the rene- 
gado, and had concerted the whole plan of escape. The eldest 
princess immediately assented to it, and her example as usual 
determined the conduct of her sisters. It is true, the youngest 
hesitated, for she was gentle and timid of soul, and there was 
a struggle in her bosom between fihal feeling and youthful 
passion. The latter however, as usual, gained the victory, and 
with silent tears and stifled sighs she prepared herself for 
flight. 

The rugged hiU on which the Alhambra is built was in old 
times perforated with subterranean passages, cut through the 
I'ock, and leading from the fortress to various parts of the city, 
and to distant sally-ports on the banks of the Darro and the 
Xenil. They had been constructed at different times, by the 
Moorish kings, as means of escape from sudden insurrection, or 
of secretly issuing forth on private enterprises. Many of them 
are now entirely lost, while others remain, partly choked up 
with rubbish, and partly waUed up — monuments of the jealous 
precautions and warhke stratagems of the Moorish government. 
By one of these passages, Hussein Baba had undertaken to 
conduct the princesses to a sally-port beyond the waUs of the 
city, where the cavahers Avere to be ready with fleet steeds to 
bear them all over the borders. 

The appointed night arrived. The tower of the princesses 
bad been locked up as usual, and the Alhambra was buried in 
deep sleep. Towards midnight the discreet Cadiga hstened 
from a balcony of a window that looked into the garden. 
Hussein Baba, the renegado, was already below, and gave the 
appointed signal. The duenna fastened the end of a ladder of 
ropes to the balcony, lowered it into the garden, and descended. 
The two eldest princesses followed her with beating hearts ; but 
when it came to the turn of the youngest prin^csfi, Zorahayda, 



LEGEND OT^ THE THREE BE A UTIFUL PRINCESSES. lOf) 

she Tiesitated and trembled. Several times she ventured a deli- 
cat(3 little foot upon the ladder, and as often drew it back; 
while her poor little heart fluttered more and more the longer 
she delayed. She cast a wistful look back into the silken cham- 
ber ; she had lived in it, to be sure, like a bird in a cage, but 
within it she was secure — who could not tell what dangers 
might beset her should she flutter forth into the wide world? 
Now she bethought her of her gallant Christian lover, and her 
little foot was instantly upon the ladder, and anon she thought 
of her father, and shrunk back. But fruitless is the attempt to 
describe the conflict in the bosom of one so young, and tender, 
and loving, but so timid and so ignorant of the world. In vain 
her sisters implored, the duenna scolded, and the renegado 
blasphemed beneath the balcony. The gentle httle Moorish 
maid stood doubting and wavering on the verge of elopement ; 
tempted by the sweetness of the sin, but terrified at its perils. 

Every moment increased the danger of discovery. A distant 
tramp was heard. — "The patrols are walking the rounds," cried 
the renegado; "if we linger longer we perish— princess, de- 
scend instantly, or we leave you." 

Zorahayda was for a moment in fearful agitation, then loos- 
ening the ladder of ropes, with desperate resolution she flmig. 
it from the balcony. 

"It is decided, " cried she, "flight is now out of my power! — 
Allah guide and bless ye, my dear sisters !" 

The two eldest princesses were shocked at the thoughts of 
leaving her behind, and wotild fain have lingered, but the 
patrol was advancing; the renegado was furious, and they 
were hiuTied away to the subterraneous passage. They groped 
their way through a fearful labyrinth cut througli the heart of 
the mountain, and succeeded in reaching, undiscovered, an 
iron gate that opened outside of the walls. The Spanish cav- 
aliers were waiting to receive them, disguised as Moorish sol- 
diers of the guard commanded by the renegado. 

The lover of Zorahayda was frantic when he learned that she 
had refused to leave the tower ; but there was no time to waste 
in lamentations. The two princesses were placed behind their 
lovers ; the discreet Cadiga mounted behind the renegado, and 
all set off at a round pace in the direction of the pass of Lope, 
which leads through the mountains towards Cordova. 

They had not proceeded far when they heard the noise of 
drums and trumpets from the battlements of the Alhambra. 
" Our flight is discovered." said the renegado "We have fleet 



106 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

steeds, the night is dark, and we may distance all pursuit," 
replied the cavaliers. 

They put spurs to their horses and scoured across the Vega, 
They attained to the foot of the mountain of Elvira, which 
stretches like a promontory into the plain. The renegado 
paused and listened. "As yet," said he, "there is no one on 
our traces, we shall make good our escape to the mountains." 
While he spoke a ball of fire sprang up in a light blaze on the 
top of the watch-tower of the Alhambra. 

" Confusion!'' cried the renegado, "that fire will put all the 
guards of the passes on the alert. Away, away, spur like mad ; 
there is no time to be lost. " 

Away they dashed— the clattering of their horses' hoofs 
echoed from rock to rock as they swept along the road that 
skirts the rocky mountain of Elvira. As they galloped on, 
they beheld that the ball of fire of the Alhambra was answered 
in every direction ; light after light blazed on the atalayas or 
watch-towers of the mountains. 

"Forward! forward!" cried the renegado, with many an 
oath — "to the bridge! — to the bridge! before the alarm has 
reached there." 

They doubled the promontory of the mountain, and arrived 
in sight of the famous Puente del Pinos, that crosses a rushing 
stream often dyed with Christian and Moslem blood. To their 
confusion the tower on the bridge blazed with lights and glit- 
tered with armed men. The renegado pulled up his steed, rose 
in his stirrups and looked about^him for a moment, then beck- 
oning to the cavaliers he struck off from the road, skirted the 
river for some distance, and dashed into its waters. The cav- 
aliers called upon the princesses to cling to them, and did the 
same. They were borne for some distance down the rapid 
current, the surges roared round them, but the beautiful prin- 
cesses clung to their Christian knights and never uttered a 
complaint. The cavaliers attained the opposite bank in safety, 
and were conducted by the renegado, by rude and unfre- 
quented paths, and wild barrancos through the. heart of the 
mountains, so as to avoid all the regular passes. In a word, 
they succeeded in reaching the ancient city of Cordova ; when 
their restoration to their country and friends was celebrated 
with great rejoicings, for they were of the noblest families. 
The beautiful princesses were forthwith received into the 
bosom of the church, and after being in all due form made 
regular Chiistians, were rendered hapi^y lovers. 



LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PlilNCESSES. I07 

In our hurry to make good the escape of the princesses 
across the river and up the mountains, we forgot to mention 
the fate of the discreet Cadiga. She had clung hke a cat to 
Hussein Baba, in the scamper across the Vega, screaming at 
every bound and drawing many an oath from the whiskered 
renegado; but when he prepared to phmge his steed into the 
river her terror knew no bounds. 

"Grasp me not so tightly ," cried Hussein Baba; "hold on by 
my belt, and fear nothing." 

She held firmly with both hands by the leathern belt that 
girded the broad-backed renegaao; but when he halted with 
the cavaliers to take breath on the mountain summit, the 
duenna was no longer to be seen. 

"What has become of Cadiga?" cried the princesses in 
alarm. 

"I know not," replied the renegado. " My belt came loose 
in the midst of the river, and Cadiga was swept with it down 
the stream. The will of Allah be done!— but it was an em- 
broidered belt and of great price I" 
There was no time to waste in idle reports, yet bitterly did 
I the princesseg bewail the loss of their faithful and discreet 
I counsellor. That excellent old woman, however, did not lose 
more than half of her nine lives in the stream.— A fisherman 
who was drawing his nets some distance down the stream, 
brought her to land and was not a httle astonished at his 
miraculous draught. What farther became of the discreet 
Cadiga, the legend does not mention.— Certain it is, that she 
evinced her discretion in never venturing within the reach of 
Mohamed the left-handed. 

Almost as little is known of the conduct of that sagacious 
monarch, when he discovered the escape of his daughters and 
the deceit practised upon him by the most faithful of servants. 
It was the only instance in which he had called in the aid of 
counsel, and he was never afterwards known to be guilty of a 
similar weakness. He took good care, however, to guard his 
remaining daughter; who had no disposition to elope. It is 
thought, indeed, that she secretly repented having remained 
behind. Now and then she was seen leaning on the battle- 
ments of the tower and looking mournfully towards the moun- 
tains, in the direction of Cordova ; and sometimes the notes of 
her lute were heard accompanying plaintive ditties, in which 
she was said to lament the loss of her sisters and her lover, and 
to bewail her sohtary life. She died young, and, according to 



108 THE ALHAMBRA. 

popular rumour, was buried in a vault beneath the tov/er, and 
her untimely fate has given rise to more than one traditionary 
fable. 



LOCAL TRADITIONS. 

The common people of Spain have an oriental passion for 
story -telling and are fond of the marvellous. They will gather 
round the doors of their cottages on summer evenings, or in 
the great cavernous chimney corners of their ventas in the 
winter, and listen with insatiable delight to miraculous legends 
of saints, perilous adventures of travellers, and daring exploits 
of robbers and contrabandistas. The wild and sohtary nature 
of a great part of Spain; the imperfect state of knowledge; 
the scantiness of general topics of conversation, and the ro- 
mantic, adventurous life that every one leads in a land where 
travelling is yet in its primitive state, ail contribute to cherish 
this love of oral narration, and to produce a strong expression 
of the extravagant and wonderful. There is no theme, how- 
ever, more prevalent or popular than that of treasures buried 
by the Moors. It pervades the whole country. In traversing 
the wild Sierras, the scenes of ancient prey and exploit, you 
cannot see a Moorish atalaya or wc^tch-tower perched among 
the cliffs, or beetling above its rock-built village, but your 
muleteer, on being closely questioned, will suspend the smok- 
ing of his cigarillo to tell some tale of Moslem gold buried be^ 
neath its foundations ; nor is there a rumed alcazar in a city, 
but has its golden tradition, handed down, from generation to 
generation, among the poor people of the neighbourhood. 

These, like most popular fictions, have had some ground- 
work in fact. During the wars between Moor and Christian, 
which distracted the country for centuries, towns and castles 
were liable frequently and suddenly to change owners ; and the 
inhabitants, during sieges and assaults, were fain to bury their 
money and jewels in the earth, or hide them in vaults and wells, 
as is often done at the present day in the despotic and belliger- 
ent countries of the East. At the time of the expulsion of the 
Moors, also, many of them concealed their most precious 
effects, hoping that their exile would be but temporary, and 
that they would be enabled to return and retrieve their treas- 
ures at some future day. It is certain that, from time to 
time, hoards of gold and silver coin have been accidentally 
digged up, after a lapse of centuries, from among the ruiD;> 



LEGEND OF THE MOORS LEGACY. 109 

of Moorish fortresses and habitations, and it requires but a 
few facts of the kind to give birth to a thousand fictions. 

The stories thus originating have generally something of an 
oriental tinge, and are marked with that mixture of the Arabic 
and Gothic which seems to me to characterize everything in 
Spain ; and especially in its southern provinces. The hidden 
wealth is always laid under magic spell, and secured by charm 
and talisman. Sometimes it is guarded by imcouth monsters, 
or fiery dragons ; sometimes by enchanted Moors, who sit by it 
in armour, with drawn swords, but motionless as statues, 
maintaining a sleepless watch for ages. 

The Alhambra, of course, from the peculiar circumstances of 
its history, is a strong hold for popular fictions of the kind, 
and curious reliques, dug up from time to time, have contrib- 
uted to strengthen them. At one time, an earthen vessel was 
found, containing Moorish coins and the skeleton of a cock, 
which, according to the opinion of shrewd inspectors, must 
have been buried alive. At another time, a vessel was digged 
up, containing a great scarabaeus, or beetle, of baked clay, cov- 
ered with Arabic inscriptions, which was pronounced a pro- 
digious amulet of occult virtues. In this way the wits of the 
ragged brood who inhabit the Alhambra have been set wool 
gathering, until there is not a hall, or tower, or vault, of the 
old fortress that has not been made the scene of some marvel- 
lous tradition. 

I have already given brief notices of some related to me by 
the authentic Mateo Ximenes, and now subjoin one wrought 
out from various particulars gathered among the gossips of the 
fortress. 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY. 

Just within the fortress of the Alhambra, in front of the 
royal palace, is a broad open esplanade, called the place or 
square of the cisterns, (la plaza de los algibes,) so called from 
being undermined by reservoirs of water, hidden from sight, 
and which have existed from the time of the Moors. At one 
comer of this esplanade is a Moorish well, cut through the liv- 
ing rock to a great depth, the water of which is cold as ice and 
clear as crystal. The wells made by the Moors are always in 



110 THE ALHAMBBA. 

repute, for it is well known what pains they took to penetrate 
to the purest and sweetest springs and fountains. The one we 
are speaking of is famous throughout Granada, insomuch that 
the water-carriers, some bearing great water-jars on their 
shoulders, others driving asses before them, laden with earthen 
vessels, are ascending and descending the steep woody avenues 
of the Alhambra from early dawn until a late hour of the night. 

Fountains and wells, ever since the scriptural days, have 
been noted gossiping places in hot climates, and at the well in 
question there is a kind of perpetual club kept up during the 
live-long day, by the invalids, old women, and other curious, 
do-nothing folk of the fortress, who sit here on the stone 
benches under an awning spread over the well to shelter the 
toll-gatherer from the sun, and dawdle over the gossip of the 
fortress, and question any water-carrier that arrives about the 
news of the city, and make long comments on everything they 
hear and see. Not an hour of the day but loitering housewives 
and idle maid-servants may be seen, lingering with pitcher on 
head or in hand, to hear the last of the endless tattle of these 
worthies. 

Among the water-carriers who once resorted to this well 
there was a sturdy, strong-backed, bandy-legged little fellow, 
named Pedro Gil, but called Peregil for shortness. Being a 
water-carrier, he was a Gallego, or native of Gallicia, of 
course. Nature seems to have formed races of men as she has 
of animals for different kinds of drudgery. In France the shoe- 
blacks are all Savoyards, the porters of hotels ail Swiss, and in 
the days of hoops and hair powder in England, no man could 
give the regular swing to a sedan chair, but a bog-trotting 
Irishman. So in Spain the carriers of water and bearers of 
burdens are all sturdy Uttle natives of Gallicia. No man says, 
" get me a porter," but, " call a Gallego." 

To return from this digression. Peregil the Gallego had 
begun business with merely a great earthen jar, which he car- 
ried upon his shoulder ; by degrees he rose in the world, and 
was enabled to purchase an assistant of a correspondent class 
of animals, being a stout shaggy-haired donkey. On each side 
of this his long-eared aid-de-camp, in a kind of pannier, were 
slung his water- jars covered with fig leaves to protect them from 
the sun. There was not a more industrious water-carrier in all 
Granada, nor one more merry withal. The streets rang with his 
cheerful voice as he trudged after his donkey, singing forth the 
usual summer note that resounds through the Spanish towns : 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR.'S LEGACY. H] 

** quien quiere agiia — agiia masfria que la nieve. — Who wants 
water— water colder than snow— who wants water from the 
well of the Alhambra— cold as ice and clear as crystal?" When 
he served a customer with a sparkling glass, it was always 
with a pleasant word that caused a smile, and if, perchance, it 
was a comely dame, or dunpling damsel, it was always with a 
sly leer and a comphment to her beauty that was irresistible. 
Thus Peregil the Gallego was noted throughout all Granada for 
being one of the civilest, pleasantest, and happiest of mortals. 
Yet it is not he who sings loudest and jokes most that has the 
lightest heart. Under all this air of merriment, honest Peregil 
had his cares and troubles. He had a large family of ragged 
children to support, who were hungry and clamorous as a 
nest of young swallows, and beset him v/ith their outcries for 
food whenever he came home of an evening. He had a help- 
mate too, who was anything but a help to him. She had been 
a village beauty before marriage, noted for her skill in dancing 
the bolero and ratthng the castanets, and she still retained her 
early propensities, spending the hard earnings of honest Pere- 
gil in frippery, and laying the very donkey under requisition 
for junketting parties into the country on Sundays, and saints' 
days, and those innumerable holydays which are rather more 
numerous in Spain than the days of the week. With all this 
she was a little of a slattern, something more of a lie-a-bed, 
and, above all, a gossip of the first water ; neglecting house, 
household and everything else, to loiter slip-shod in the houses 
of her gossip neighbours. 

He, however, who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, 
accommodates the yoke of matrimony to the submissive neck. 
Peregil bore aU the heavy dispensations of wife and children 
with as meek a spirit as his donkey bore the water-jars ; and, 
however he might shake his ears in private, never ventured to 
question the household virtues of his slattern spouse. 

He loved his children too, even as an owl loves its owlets, 
seeing in them his own image multiplied and perpetuated, for 
they were a sturdy, long-backed, bandy-legged little brood. 
The great pleasure of honest Peregil was, whenever he could 
afford himself a scanty holyday and had a handful of marave- 
dies to spare, to take the whole litter forth with him, some in 
his arms, some tugging at his skirts, and some trudging at his 
I eels, and to treat them to a gambol among the orchards of the 
Vega, while his wife was dancing- with her holyday friends in 
the Angosturas of the Darro. 



112 ^'^^^' ALIIAMBRA. 

It was a late hour one summer night, and most of the water 
carriers had desisted from their toils. The day had been un- 
commonly sultry ; the night was one of those delicious moon- 
lights, which tempt the inhabitants of those southern climes to 
indemnify themselves for the heat and inaction of the day, by 
lingering in the open air and enjoying its tempered sweetness 
until after midnight. Customers for water were therefore 
still abroad. Peregil, like a considerate, painstaking little 
father, thought of his hungry children. "One more journey 
to the well," said he to himself, "to earn a good Sunday's 
puchero for the little ones." So saying, he trudged rapidly up 
the steep avenue of the Alhambra, singing as he went, and 
now and then bestowing a hearty thwack with a cudgel on 
the flanks of his donkey, either by way of cadence to the song, 
or refreshment to the animal ; for dry blows serve in Heu for 
provender in Spain, for all beasts of burden. 

When arrived at the well, he found it deserted by every one 
except a sohtary stranger in Moorish garb, seated on the stone 
bench in the moonhght. Peregil paused at first, and regarded 
him with surprise, not unmixed with awe, but the Moor feebly 
beckoned him to approach. 

"I am faint and ill," said he; "aid me to return to the city, 
and I will pay thee double what thou couldst gain by thy jars 
of water." 

The honest heart of the little water-carrier was touched with 
compassion at the appeal of the stranger. "God forbid," said 
he, " that I should ask fee or reward for doing a common act 
of humanity. " 

He accordingly helped the Moor on his donkey, and set off 
slowly for Granada, the poor Moslem being so weak that it 
was necessary to hold him on the animal to keep him from 
falling to the earth. 

When they entered the city, the water-carrier demanded 
whither he should conduct him. "Alas!" said the Moor, 
faintly, ' ' I have neither home nor habitation. I am a stranger 
in the land. Suffer me to lay my head this night beneath thy 
roof, and thou shall be amply repaid. " 

Honest Peregil thus saw himself unexpectedly saddled with 
an infidel guest, but he was too humane to refuse a night's 
shelter to a fellow being in so forlorn a plight ; so he conducted 
the Moor to his dwelling. The children, who had salhed forth, 
open-mouthed as usual, on hearing the tramp of the donkey, 
ran back with affright, when they beheld the turbaned 



LEGEND OF THE MOORS LEGACY. 113 

stranger, and hid themselves behind their mother. The latter 
stepped forth intrepidly, like a ruffling hen before her brood, 
when a vagrant dog approaches. 

"What infidel companion," cried she, "is this you have 
brought home at this late hour, to draw upon us the eyes of 
the Inquisition?" 

"Be quiet, wife," replied the Gallego, "here is a poor sick 
stranger, without friend or home : w^ouldst thou turn him. forth 
to perish in the streets?" 

The wife would still have remonstrated, for, though she 
lived in a hovel, she was a furious stickler for the credit of her 
house; the little water-carrier, however, for once was stiff- 
necked, and refused to bend beneath the yoke. He assisted 
the poor Moslem to ahght, and spread a mat and a sheepskin 
for him, on the ground, in the coolest part of the house ; being 
the only kind of bed that his poverty afforded. 

In a little while the Moor was seized w^ith violent convul- 
sions, which defied all the ministering skill of the simple 
water-carrier. The eye of the poor patient acknowledged his 
kindness. During an interval of his fits he called him to his 
side, and addressing him in a low voice; "My end," said he, 
"I fear is at hand. If I die I bequeath you this box as a re- 
ward for your charity." So saying, he opened his albornoz, or 
cloak, and showed a small box of sandal wood, strapped round 
his body. 

"God grant, my friend," replied the worthy httle Gallego, 
"that you may live many years to enjoy your treasure, what- 
ever it may be." 

The Moor shook his head ; he laid his hand upon the box, 
and would have said something more concerning it, but liis 
convulsions returned with increased violence, and in a little 
while he expired. 

The water-carrier's wdfe was now as one distracted. " This 
comes," said she, "of your foolish good nature, always run- 
ning into scrapes to oblige others. What will become of us 
when this corpse is found in our house? We shall be sent to 
prison as murderers ; and if we escape with our lives, shall be 
ruined by notaries and alguazils. " 

Poor Peregil was in equal tribulation, and almost repented 
himself of having done a good deed. At length a thought 
struck him. " It is not yet day," said he. "I can convey the 
dead body out of the city and bury it in the sands on the banks 
of the Xenil. No one saw the Moor enter our dwelling, and no 



114 THE ALHAMBRA. 

ODG will know any thing of his death." So said, so done. The 
wife aided him. they rolled the body of the unfortunate Mos- 
lem in the mat on which he had expired, laid it across the ass, 
and Mattias set out with it for the banks of the river. 

As ill luck would have it, there lived opposite to the water- 
carrier a barber, named Pedrillo Pedrugo, one of the most 
prying, tattling, mischief -making, of his gossip tribe. He was 
a weasel-faced, spider-legged varlet, supple and insinuating; 
the famous Barber of Seville could not surpass him for his uni- 
versal knowledge of the affairs of others, and he had no more 
power of retention than a sieve. It was said that he slept with 
but one eye at a time, and kept one ear uncovered, so that, 
even in his sleep, he might see and hear aU that was going on. 
Certain it is, he was a sort of scandalous chronicle for the 
quidnuncs of Granada, and had more customers than aU the 
rest of his fraternity. 

This meddlesome barber heard Peregil arrive at an unusual 
hour of night, and the exclamations of his wife and children. 
His head was instantly popped out of a little window which 
served him as a lookout, and he saw his neighbour assist a man 
in a Moorish garb into his dwelling. This was so strange an 
occurrence that Pedrillo Pedrugo slept not a wink that night — 
every five minutes he was at his loop-hole, watching the lights 
that gleamed through the chinks of his neighbour's door, and 
before daylight he beheld Peregil sally forth with his donkey 
unusually laden. 

The inquisitive barber was in a fidget; he slipped on his 
clothes, and, stealing forth silently, followed the water-carrier 
at a distance, until he saw him dig a hole in the sandy bank 
of the XenU, and bury something that had the appearance of 
a dead body. 

The barber hied him home and fidgeted about his shop, set- 
ting everything upside down, until sunrise. He then took a 
basin under his arm, and sallied forth to the house of his daily 
customer, the Alcalde. 

The Alcalde was just risen. Pedrillo Pedrugo seated him in 
a chair, threw a napkin round his neck, put a basin of hot 
water under his chin, and began to mollify his beard with his 
fingers. 

''Stransce doings," said Pedrugo, who played barber and 
newsmonger at the same time. "Strange doings! Robbery, 
and murder, and burial, all in one night !" 

" Hey? howl What is it you say 2" cried the Alcalde. 



J^EOEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY. 115 

"I say," replied the barber, rubbing a piece of soap over the 
nose and mouth of the dignitary, for a Spanish barber disdains 
to employ a brush; "I say that Peregil the Gallego has robbed 
and murdered a Moorish Mussulman, and buried him this 
blessed night, — maldita sea la noche, — accursed be the night 
for the same !" 

"But how do you know all this?" demanded the Alcalde. 

" Be patient, Senor, and you shall hear all about it," replied 
Pedrillo, taking him by the nose and sliding a razor over his 
cheek. He then recounted all that he had seen, going through 
both operations at the same time, shaving his beard, washing 
his chin, and wiping him dry with a dirty napkin, while he 
was robbing, murdering, and burying the Moslem. 

Now it so happened that this Alcalde was one of the most 
overbearing, and at the same time most griping and corrupt 
curmudgeons in all Granada. It could not be denied, however, 
that he set a high value upon justice, for he sold it at its weight 
in gold. He presumed the case in point to be one of murder 
and robbery; doubtless there must be rich spoil; how was it to 
be secured into the legitimate hands of the law? for as to 
merely entrapping the delinquent— that would be feeding the 
gallows: but entrapping the booty — that would be enriching 
the judge ; and such, according to his creed, was the great end 
of justice. So thinking, he summoned to his presence his 
trustiest alguazil ; a gaunt, hungry-looking varlet, clad, accord- 
ing to the custom of his order, in the ancient Spanish garb— a 
broad black beaver, turned up at the sides; a quaint ruff, a 
small black cloak dangling from his shoulders; rusty black 
imder-clothes that set off his spare wiry form; while in his 
hand he bore a slender white wand, the dreaded insignia of his 
oflBce. Such was the legal bloodhound of the ancient Spanish 
breed, that he put upon the traces of the unlucky water-car- 
rier ; and such was his speed and certainty that he was upon 
the haunches of poor Peregil before he had returned to his 
dwelling, and brought both him and his donkey before the dis- 
penser of justice. 

The Alcalde bent upon him one of his most terrific frowns. 
**Hark ye, culprit," roared he in a voice that made the knees 
of the little Gallego smite together,— " Hark, ye culprit ! there is 
no need of denying thy guilt : everything is known to me. A 
gallows is the proper reward for the crime thou hast commit- 
ted, but I am merciful, and readily listen to reason. The man 
that has been murdered in thy house was a Moor, an infidel. 



116 THE ALHAMBBA, 

the enemy of our faith. It was doubtless in a fit of religious 
zeal that thou hast slain him. I will be indulgent, therefore ; 
render up the property of which thou hast robbed him, and we 
will hush the matter up." 

The poor water-carrier called upon aU the saints to witness 
his innocence; alas! not one of them appeared, and if there 
had, the Alcalde would have disbeheved the whole kalendar. 
The water carrier related the whole story of the dying Moor 
with the straightforward simplicity of truth, but it was all in 
vain "Wilt thou persist in saying," demanded the judge, 
" that this Moslem had neither gold nor jewels, which were the 
object of thy cupidity?" 

"As I hope to be saved, your worship," replied the water- 
carrier, "he had nothing but a small box of sandalwood, which 
he bequeathed to me in reward of my services. " 

"A box of sandalwood! a box of sandal wood!" exclaimed 
the Alcalde, his eyes sparkling at the idea of precious jewels, 
"and where is this box? where have you concealed it?" 

"An' it please your grace," rephed the water-carrier, "it is 
in one of the panniers of my mule, and heartily at the service 
of your worship." 

He had hardly spoken the words when the keen alguazH 
darted off and reappeared in an instant with the mysterious 
box of sandal wood. The Alcalde opened it with an eager and 
trembling hand ; all pressed forward to gaze upon the treasures 
it was expected to contain; when, to their disappointment, 
nothing appeared within but a parchment scroll, covered with 
Arabic characters, and an end of a waxen taper ! 

When there is nothing to be gained by the conviction of a 
prisoner, justice, even in Spain, is apt to be impartial. The 
Alcalde, having recovered from his disappointment and found 
there was really no booty in the case, now listened dispassion- 
ately to the explanation of the water-carrier, which was cor- 
roborated by the testimony of his wife. Being convinced, 
therefore, of his innocence, he discharged him from arrest ; nay 
more, he permitted him to carry off the Moor's legacy, the box 
of sandal wood and its contents, as the well-merited reward of 
his humanity ; but he retained his donkey in payment of cost 
and charges. 

Behold the unfortunate little Gallego reduced once more to 
the necessity of being his own water-carrier, and trudging up 
to the well of the Alhambra with a great earthen jar upon his 
shoulder. As he toiled up the hill in the heat of a summer noon 



LEGEND OB' THE MOORS LEGACY. 117 

his usual good-humour forsook him. "Dog of an Alcalde!" 
would he cry, " to rob a poor man of the means of his subsist- 
ence—of the best friend he had in the world!" And then, at 
the remembrance of the beloved companion of his labours, all 
the kindness of his nature would break forth. "Ah, donkey 
of my heart !" would he exclaim, resting his burden on a stone, 
and Aviping the sweat from his brow, ' ' Ah, donkey of my heart ! 
I warrant me thou thinkest of thy old master ! I warrant me 
thou missest the water jars— poor beast !" 

To add to his afflictions his wife received him, on his return 
home, with whimperings and repinings; she had clearly the 
vantage-ground of him, having warned him not to commit the 
egregious act of hospitality that had brought on him all these 
misfortunes, and like a knowing woman, she took every occa- 
sion to throw her superior sagacity in his teeth. If ever her 
children lacked food, or needed a new garment, she would an- 
swer with a sneer, " Go to your father; he's heir to king Chico 
of the Alhambra. Ask him to help you out of the Moor's strong 
box." 

Was ever poor mortal more soundly punished, for having 
done a good action ! The unlucky Peregil was grieved in flesh 
and spirit, but still he bore meekly with the railings of his 
spouse. At length one evening, when, after a hot day's toil, 
she taunted him in the usual manner, he lost all patience. He 
did not venture to retort upon her, but his eye rested upon 
the box of sandal wood, which lay on a shelf with lid half 
open, as if laughing in mockery of his vexation. Seizing it up 
he dashed it with indignation on the floor. "Unlucky was 
the day that I ever set eyes on thee," he cried, "or sheltered 
thy master beneath my roof." 

x4ls the box struck the floor the lid flew wide open, and the 
parchment scroll rolled forth. Peregil sat regarding the scroll 
for some time in moody silence. At length rallying his ideas, 
"Who knows," thought he, "but this writing may be of some 
importance, as the Moor seems to have guarded it with such 
care." Picking it up, therefore, he put it in his bosom, and 
the next morning, as he was crying water through the streets, 
he stopped at the shop of a Moor, a native of Tangiers, who 
sold trinkets and perfumery in the 2.acatin, and asked him to 
explain the contents. 

The Moor read the scroll attentively, then stroked his beard 
and smiled. "This manuscript," said he, " is a form of incan- 
tation for the recovery of hidden treasure, that is under th© 



118 THE ALHAMBRA. 

power of enchantment. It is said to have such virtue that the 
strongest bolts and bars, nay the adamantine rock itself will 
yield before it." 

" Bah! " cried the little Gallego, "what is all that to me? I 
am no enchanter, and know nothing of buried treasure." So 
saying he shouldered his water-jar, left the seroll in the hands 
of the Moor, and trudged forward on his daily rounds. 

That evening, however, as he rested himself about twilight 
at the well of the Alhambra, he found a number of gossips as' 
sembled at the place, and their conversation, as is not unusual 
at that shadowy hour, turned upon old tales and traditions of 
a supernatural nature. Being all poor as rats, they dwelt with 
pecuUar fondness upon the popular theme of enchanted riches 
left by the Moors m various parts of the Alhambra. Above 
all, they concurred in the belief that there were great treasures 
buried deep in the earth under the tower of the Seven Floors. 

These stories made an unusual impression on the mind of 
honest Peregil, and they sank deeper and deeper into his 
thoughts as he returned alone down the darkling avenues. 
" If, after all, there should be treasure hid beneath that tower 
^and if the scroll I left with the Moor should enable me to get 
at it !" In the sudden ecstasy of the thought he had well nigh 
let fall his water-jar. 

That night he tumbled and tossed, and could scarcely get a 
wink of sleep for the thoughts that were bewildering his brain. 
In the morning, bright and early, he repaired to the shop of 
the Moor, and told him all that was passing in his mind, 
"You can read Arabic," said he, "suppose we go together to 
the tower and try the effect of the charm ; if it fails we are no 
worse off than before, but if it succeeds we will share equally 
all the treasure we may discover." 

"Hold," replied the Moslem, "this writing is not sufficient 
of itself ; it must be read at midnight, by the light of a taper 
singularly compounded and prepared, the ingredients of which 
are not witliin my reach. Without such taper the scroll is oi 
no avail." 

"Say no more!" cried the little Gallego. "I have such a 
taper at hand and will bring it here in a moment." So saying 
he hastened home, and soon returned with the end of a yellow 
wax taper that he had found in the box of sandal wood. 

The Moor felt it, an J smelt to it. " Here are rare and costly 
perfumes," said he, " combined with this yellow wax. This is 
the kind of taper specified in the scroll. While this burns, the 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY. 119 

strongest walls and most secret caverns will remain open ; woe 
to him, however, who lingers within until it be extinguished. 
He will remain enchanted with the treasure." 

It was now agreed between them to try the charm that very 
night. At a late hour, therefore, when nothing was stii-ring 
but bats and owls, they ascended the woody hill of the Alham- 
bra, and approached that awful tower, shrouded by trees and 
1 endered formidable by so many traditionary tales. 

By the light of a lantern, they groped their way through 
bushes, and over fallen stones, to the door of a vauh beneath 
the tower. With fear and trembling they descended a flight 
of steps cut into the rock. It led to an empty chamber, damp 
and drear, from which another flight of steps led to a deeper 
vault. In this way they descended four several flights, lead- 
ing into as many vaults, one below the other, but the floor of 
the fourth was solid, and though, according to tradition, there 
remained three vaults stiU below, it was said to be impossible 
to penetrate farther, the residue being shut up by strong en- 
chantment. The air of this vault was damp and chilly, and 
had an earthy smell, and the light scarce cast forth qlyij rays. 
They paused here for a time in breathless suspense, until they 
faintly heard the clock of the watch tower strike midnight; 
upon this they ht the waxen taper, which diffused an odour 
of myrrh, and frankincense, and storax. 

The Moor began to read in a hurried voice. He had scarce 
finished, when there was a noise as of subterraneous thunder. 
The earth shook, and the floor yawning open disclosed a flight 
of steps. Trembling with awe they descended, and by the 
light of the lantern found themselves in another vault, covered 
with Ajabic inscriptions. In the centre stood a great chest, 
secured with seven bands of steel, at each end of which sat an 
enchanted Moor in armour, but motionless as a statue, being 
controlled by the power of the incantation. Before the chest 
were several jars filled with gold and silver and precious 
stones, ^n the largest of these they thrust their arms up to 
the elbow, and at every dip hauled forth hands-full of broad 
yellow pieces of Moorish gold, or bracelets and ornaments of 
the same precious metal, while occasionally a necklace of 
oriental pearl would stick to their fingers. Still they trembled 
and breathed short while cramming their pockets with the 
spoils ; and cast many a fearful glance at the two enchanted 
Moors, who sat grim and motionless, glaring upon them with 
unwinking eyes. At length, struck with a sudden panic at 



120 THE ALnAMBRA. « 

some fancied noise, they both rushed up the staircase, tnmbied 
over one another into the upper apartment, overturned and 
extinguished the waxen taper, and the pavement again closed 
with a thundering sound. 

Filled with dismay, they did not pause until they had 
groped their way out of the tower, and beheld the stars shin- 
ing through the trees. Then seating themselves upon the 
grass, they divided the spoil, determining to content them- 
selves for the present with this mere skimming of the jars, 
but to return on some future night and drain them to the bot- 
tom. To make sure of each other's good faith, also, they 
divided the talismans between them, one retaining the scroll 
and the other the taper; this done, they set off with Mght 
hearts and well Hned pockets for Granada. 

As they wended their way down the hill, the shrewd Moor 
Avhispered a word of counsel in the ear of the simple little 
water-carrier. 

"Friend Peregil," said he, "all this affair must be kept a 
profound secret until we have secured the treasure and con- 
veyed it out of harm's way. If a whisper of it gets to the ear 
of the Alcalde we are undone !" 

"Certainly!" repHed the Gallego; "nothing can be more 
true." 

"Friend Peregil," said the Moor, "you are a discreet man, 
and I make no doubt can keep a secret; but — you have a 
wife — " 

"She shall not know a word of it!" replied the Httle water- 
carrier sturdily. 

"Enough," said the Moor, "I depend upon thy discretion 
and thy promise." 

Never was promise more positive and sincere; but alas! 
what man can keep a secret from his wife? Certainly not 
such a one as Peregil the water-carrier, who was one of the 
most loving and tractable of husbands. On his return home 
he found his wife moping in a corner. 

" Mighty well !" cried she, as he entered; "youV^ come at 
last; after rambhng about until this hour of the night. I 
wonder you have not brought home another Moor as a house^ 
mate." Then bursting into tears she began to wring her 
hands and smite her breast. "Unhappy woman that I am!" 
exclaimed she, "what will become of me! My house stripped 
and plundered by lawyers and alguazils ; my husband a do-no- 
good that no longer brings home bread for his family, but 



LEGEND OF THE MOORS LEGACY. 121 

goes rambling about, day and night, with infidel Moors. Oh, 
m J children ! my children ! what will become of us ; we shall 
all have to beg in the streets !" 

Honest Peregil was so moved by the distress of his spouse, 
that he could not help whimpering also. His heart was as full 
as his pocket, and not to be restrained. Thrusting his hand 
into the latter he hauled forth three or four broad gold pieces 
and slipped them into her bosom. The poor woman stared 
with astonishment, and could not understand the meaning of 
this golden shower. Before she could recover her surprise, 
the little GaUego drew forth a chain of gold and dangled it 
before her, capering with exultation, his mouth distended 
from ear to ear. 

"Holy Virgin protect us!" exclaimed the wife. "What 
hast thou been doing, Peregil? Surely thou hast not been 
committing murder and robbery !" 

The idea scarce entered the brain of the poor woman than it 
became a certainty with her. She saw a prison and a gallows 
in the distance, and a little bandy-legged Gallego dangling 
pendant from it; and, overcome by the horrors conjured up 
by her imagination, fell into violent hysterics. 

What could the poor man do? He had no other means of 
pacifying his wife and dispelling the phantoms of her fancy, 
than by relating the whole story of his good fortune. This, 
however, he did not do until he had exacted from her the 
most solemn promise to keep it a profound secret from every 
living being. 

To describe her joy would be impossible. She flung her 
arms round the neck of her husband, and almost strangled 
him with her caresses. "Now, wife!" exclaimed the little 
man "vvith honest exultation, "what say you now to the Moor's 
legacy? Henceforth never abuse me for helping a-fellow crea- 
ture in distress. " 

The honest Gallego retired to his sheepskin mat, and slept as 
soundly as if on a bed of down. Not so his wife.— She emptied 
the whole contents of his pockets upon the mat, and sat all 
night counting gold pieces of Arabic coin, trying on necklaces 
and ear-rings, and fancying the figure she should one day 
make when permitted to enjoy her riches. 

On the following morning the honest Gallego took a broad 
golden coin, and repaired with it to a jeweller's shop in the 
Zacatin to offer it for sale ; pretending to have found it among 
the ruins of the Alhambra. The jeweller saw that it had aD 



122 THE ALHAMBRA. 

Arabic inscription and was of the purest gold; he offered, 
however, but a third of its value, with which the water-carrier 
was perfectly content. Peregil now bought new clothes foi' 
his httle flock, and ail kinds of toys, together with ample pro- 
visions for a hearty meal, and returning to his dwelling set 
all his children dancing around him, while he capered in the 
midst, the happiest of fathers. 

The wife of the water-carrier kept her promise of secrecy 
with surprising strictness. For a whole day and a half she 
went about with a look of mystery and a heart swelling almost 
to bursting, yet she held her peace, though surrounded by her 
gossips. It is true she could not help giving herself a few airs, 
apologized for her ragged dress, and talked of ordering a new 
basquina all trimmed with gold lace and bugles, and a new 
lace mantilla. She threw out hints of her husband's intention 
of leaving off his trade of water- carrying, as it did not alto- 
gether agree with his health. In fact she thought they should 
all retire to the country for the summer, that the children 
might have the benefit of the mountain air, for there was no 
living in the city in this sultry season. 

The neighbours stared at each other, and thought the poor 
woman had lost her wits, and her airs and graces and 
elegant pretensions were the theme of universal scoffing 
and merriment among her friends, the moment her back was 
turned. 

If she restrained herself abroad, however, she indemnified 
herself at home, and, putting a string of rich oriental pearls 
round her neck, Moorish bracelets on her arms ; an aigrette of 
diamonds on her head, sailed backwards and forwards in her 
slattern rags about the room, now and then stopping to f>.dmire 
herself in a piece of broken mirror. Nay, in the impulse of 
her simple vanity, she could not resist on one occasion show- 
ing herself at the window, to enjoy the effect of her finery on 
the passers by. 

As the fates would have it, Pedrillo Pedrugo, the meddle- 
some barber, was at this moment sitting idly in his shop on 
the opposite side of the street, when his ever watchful eye 
caught the sparkle of a diamond. In an instant he was at his 
loop-hole, reconnoitring the slattern spouse of the water-car- 
rier, decorated with the splendour of an eastern bride. No 
sooner had he taken an accurate inventory of her ornaments 
than he posted off with all speed to the Alcalde. In a little 
while the hungry alguazil was again on the scent, and before 



LEGEND OF THE MOORS LEGACY. 123 

the day was over, the unfortunate Peregil was again dragged 
into the presence of the judge. 

"How is this, villain!" cried the Alcalde in a furious voice. 
"You told me that the infidel who died in your house left 
nothing behind but an empty coffer, and now I hear of your 
wife flaunting in her rags decked out with pearls and dia- 
monds. Wretch, that thou art! prepare to render up the 
spoils of thy miserable victim, and to swing on the gallows 
that is already tired of waiting for thee. " 

The terrified water-carrier fell on his knees, and made a full 
relation of the marvellous manner in which he had gained his 
wealth. The Alcalde, the alguazil, and the inquisitive barber 
hstened with greedy ears to this Arabian tale of enchanted 
treasure. The alguazil was despatched to bring the Moor who 
had assisted in the incantation. Th e Moslem entered half fright- 
ened out of his wits at finding himself in the hands of the harpies 
of the law. When he beheld the water-carrier standing with 
sheepish look and downcast countenance, he comprehended 
the whole matter. "Miserable animal," said he, as he passed 
near him, "did I not warn thee against babbhng to thy 
wife?" 

The story of the Moor coincided exactly with that of his col- 
league ; but the Alcalde affected to be slow of belief, and threw 
out menaces of imprisonment and rigorous investigation. 

"Softly, good Seuor Alcalde," said the Mussulman, who by 
this time had recovered his usual shrewdness and self-posses- 
sion. "Let us not mar fortune's favours in the scramble for 
them. Nobody knows any thing of this matter but ourselves : 
let us keep the secret. There is wealth enough m the cave to 
enrich us all. Promise a fair division, and all shall be pro- 
duced ; refuse, and the cave shall remain for ever closed. " 

The Alcalde consulted apart with the alguazil. The latter was 
an old fox in his profession. "Promise any thmg," said he, 
"until you get possession of the treasure. You may then seize 
upon the whole, and if he and his accompKce dare to murmur, 
threaten them with the faggot and the stake as mfidels and 
sorcerers." 

The Alcalde rdished the advice. Smoothing his brow and 
turning to the Moor,— "This is a strange story." said he, "and 
may be true, but I must have ocular proof of it. This very 
night you must repeat the incantation in my presence. If 
there be really such treasure, we will share it amicably between 
us, and say nothing further of the matter ; if ye have deceived 



124 THE ALHAMBRA. 

me, expect no mercy at my hands. In the mean time yon 

must remain in custody." 

The Moor and the water-carrier cheerfully agreed to these 
conditions, satisfied that the event would prove the truth of. 
their words. 

Towards midnight the Alcalde sallied forth secretly, attended 
by the alguazil and the meddlesome barber, all strongly armed. 
They conducted the Moor and the water-carrier as prisoners, 
and were provided with the stout donkey of the latter, to bear 
off the expected treasure. They arrived at the tower without 
being observed, and tying the donkey to a fig-tree, descended 
into the fourth vault of the tower. 

The scroll was produced, the yellow waxen taper lighted, 
and the Moor read the form of incantation. The earth trembled 
as before, and the pavement opened with a thundering sound, 
disclosing the narrow flight of steps. The Alcalde, the alguazil, 
and the barber were struck aghast, and could not simimon 
courage to descend. The Moor and the water-carrier entered 
the lower vault and found the two Moors seated as before, silent 
and motionless. They removed two of the great jars, filled with 
golden coin and precious stones. The water-carrier bore them 
up one by one upon his shoulders, but though a strong- 
backed little man, and accustomed to carry burdens, he 
staggered beneath their weight, and found, when slung on 
each side of his donkey, they were as much as the animal could 
bear. 

" Let us be content for the present," said the Moor; "here is 
as much treasure as we can carry off without being perceived, 
and enough to make us all wealthy to our heart's desire." 

"Is there more treasure remaining behind?" demanded the 
Alcalde. 

"The greatest prize of all," said the Moor; " a huge coffer, 
bound with bands of steel, and filled with pearls and precious 
stones." 

"Let us have up the coffer by aU means," cried the grasping 
Alcalde. 

"I will descend for no more," said the Moor, doggedly. 
" Enough is enough for a reasonable man; more is superfluous." 

"And I," said the w^ater-carrier, "will bring up no further 
burthen to break the back of my poor donkey. " 

Finding commands, threats, and entreaties equally vain, the 
Alcalde turned to his tAvo adherents. "Aid me," said he, "to 
bring up the coffer, and its contents shall be divided between 



LEGEND OF THE MOORS LEGACY. 12.0 

US." So saying he descended the steps, followed, with trem- 
bling reluctance, by the alguazil and the barber. 

No sooner did the Moor behold them fairly earthed than he 
extinguished the yellow taper: the pavement closed with its 
usual crash, and the three worthies remained buried in its 
womb. 

He then hastened up the different flights of steps, nor stopped 
Until in the open air. The little water-carrier followed him as 
fast as his short legs would permit. 

"What hast thou done?" cried Peregil, as soon as he could 
recover breath. "The Alcalde and the other two are shut up 
in the vault !" 

"It is the will of Allah!" said the Moor, devoutly. 

"And "svill you not release them?" demanded the Gallego. 

"Allah forbid!" replied the Moor, smoothing his beard. "It 
is written in the book of fate that they shall remain enchanted 
until some future adventurer shall come to break the charm. 
The will of God be done !" So saying he hurled the end of the 
waxen taper far among the gloomy thickets of the glen. 

There was now no remedy ; so the Moor and the water-carrier 
proceeded with the richly-laden donkey towards the city : nor 
could honest Peregil refrain from hugging and kissing his long- 
eared fellow-labourer, thus restored to him from the clutches of 
the law; and, in fact, it is doubtful which gave the simple- 
hearted Httle man most joy at the moment, the gaining of the 
treasure or the recovery of the donkey. 

The two partners in good luck divided their spoil amicably 
and fairly, excepting that the Moor, who had a little taste for 
trinketry, made out to get into his heap the most of the pearls 
and precious stones, and other baubles, but then he always 
gave the water-carrier in lieu magnificent jewels of massy gold 
four times the size, with which the latter was heartily content. 
They took care not to hnger within reach of accidents, but 
made off to enjoy their wealth undisturbed in other countries. 
The Moor returned into Africa, to his native city of Tetuan, 
and the Gallego. with his wife, his children and his donkey, 
made the best of his way to Portugal. Here, under the ad- 
monition and tuition of liis wife, he became a personage of some 
consequence, for she made the little man array his long body 
and short iegs in doublet and hose, with a feather in liis hat 
and a sword by his side ; and, laying aside the familiar aj^pella- 
tion of Peregil, assume the more sonorous title of Don Pedro 
Gil. His progeny gi-ew up a thriving and merry -hearted. 



126 THE ALTIAMBRA. 

though short and bandy-legged generation ; while the Senora 
Gil, be-fringed, be-laced, and be-tasselled from her head to her 
heels, with glittering rings on every finger, became a model of 
slattern fashion and finery. 

As to the Alcalde, and his adjuncts, they remained shut up 
under the great tower of the Seven Floors, and there they re- 
main spell-bound at the present day. Whenever there shall be 
a lack in Spain of pimping barbers, sharking alguazils, and 
corrupt Alcaldes, they may be sought after ; but if they have 
to wait until such time for their deliverance, there is danger of 
their enchantment enduring until doomsday. 



VISITORS TO THE ALHAMBRA. 

It is now nearly three months since I took up my abode in 
the Alhambra, during which time the progress of the season 
has wrought many changes. When I first arrived every thing 
was in the freshness of May ; the foliage of the trees was still 
tender and transparent ; the pomegranate had not yet shed its 
brilhant crimson blossoms ; the orchards of the Xenil and the 
Darro were in full bloom ; the rocks were hung with wild flow- 
ers, and Granada seemed completely surrounded by a wilder- 
ness of roses, among which innumerable nightingales sang, not 
merely in the night, but aU day long. 

The advance of summer has withered the rose and silenced 
the nightingale, and the distant country begins to look parched 
and sunburnt ; though a perennial verdure reigns immediately 
round the city, and in the deep narrow valleys at the foot of 
the snow-capped mountains. 

The Alhambra possesses retreats graduated to the heat of the 
weather, among which the most pecuhar is the almost subter- 
ranean apartment of the baths. This still retains its ancient 
oriental character, though stamped with the touching traces 
of decHne. At the entrance, opening into a small court for- 
merly adorned with flowers, is a hall, moderate in size, but 
light and graceful in architecture. It is overlooked by a small 
gallery supported by marble pillars and moresco arches. An 
alabaster fountain in the centre of the pavement stiU throws up 
a jet of water to cool the place. On each side are deep alcoves 
with raised platforms, where the bathers after their ablutions 



VISITOliS TO THE ALHAMBRA. 127 

reclined on luxurious cushions, soothed to voluptuous repose 
by the fragrance of the perfumed air and the notes of soft 
music from the gallery. Beyond this hall are the interior 
chambers, still more private and retired, where no hght is 
admitted but through small apertures in the vaulted ceil- 
ings. Here was the sanctum sanctorum of female privacy, 
where the beauties of the harem indulged in the luxury of 
the baths. A soft mysterious Ifght reigns through the place, 
the broken baths are still there, and traces of ancient elegance. 

The prevailing silence and obscurity have made this a fa- 
vourite resort of bats, who nestle during the day in the dark 
nooks and corners, and, on being disturbed, flit mysteriously 
about the twilight chambers, heightening in an indescribable 
degree their air of desertion and decay. 

In this cool and elegant though dilapidated retreat, which 
has the freshness and seclusion of a grotto, I have of late passed 
the sultry hours of the day; emerging toward sunset, and 
bathing, or rather swimming, at night in the great reservoir 
of the main court. In this way I have been enabled in a mea- 
sure to counteract the relaxing and enervating influence of the 
climate. 

My dream of absolute sovereignty, however, is at an end : I 
was roused from it lately by the report of fire-arms, which 
reverberated among the towers as if the castle had been taken 
by surprise. On sallying forth I found an old cavalier with a 
number of domestics in possession of the hall of ambassadors. 
He was an ancient Count, who had come up from his palace in 
Granada to pass a short time in the Alhambra for the benefit 
of purer air, and who, being a veteran and inveterate sports- 
man, was endeavouring to get an appetite for his breakfast by 
shooting at swallows from the balconies. It was a harmless 
amusement, for though, by the alertness of his attendants in 
loading his pieces, he was enabled to keep up a brisk fire, I 
could not accuse him of the death of a single swallow. Nay, 
the birds themselves seemed to enjoy the sport, and to deride 
his want of skill, skimming in circles close to the balconies, 
and twittering as they darted by. 

The arrival of this old gentleman has in some measure 
changed the aspect of affairs, but has likewise afforded matter 
for agreeable speculation. We have tacitly shared the empire 
between us, like the last kings of Granada, excepting that we 
maintain a most amicable alliance. He reigns absolute over 
the Court of the Lions and its adjacent halls, while I maintain 



128 THE ALHAMBRA. 

peaceful possession of the region of the baths and the httle 
garden of Lindaraxa. We take our meals together under the 
arcades of the court, where the fountains cool the air, and 
bubbling riUs run along the channels of the marble pavement. 

In the evening, a domestic circle gathers about the worthy 
old cavaher. The countess comes up from the city, with a 
favourite daughter about sixteen years of age. Then there 
are the ofl&cial dependents of "the Count, his chaplain, his law- 
yer, his secretary, his steward, and others officers and agents 
of his extensive possessions. Thus he holds a kind of domestic 
court, where every person seeks to contribute to his amuse- 
ment, without sacrificing his own pleasure or self-respect. " In 
fact, whatever may be said of Spanish pride, it certainly does 
not enter into social or domestic life. Among no people are 
the relations between kindred more cordial, or between supe- 
rior and dependent more frank and genial; in these respects 
there still remains, in the provincial hfe of Spain, much of 
the vaunted sunplicity of the olden times. 

The most interesting member of this family group, however, 
is the daughter of the Count, the charming though almost infan- 
tile little Carmen. Her form has not yet attained its maturity, 
but has already the exquisite symmetry and pHant grace so 
prevalent in this country. Her blue eyes, fair complexion, 
and hght hair are imusual in Andalusia, and give a mildness 
and gentleness to her demeanour, in contrast to the usual fire 
of Spanish beauty, but in perfect unison with the guileless and 
confiding innocence of her manners. She has, however, all the 
innate aptness and versatihty of her fascinating coimtry- 
women, and sings, dances, and plays the guitar and other 
instruments to admiration. A few days after taking up his 
residence in the Alhambra, the Count gave a domestic fete on 
his saint's day, assembling round him the members of his 
family and household, while several old servants came from 
his distant possessions to pay their reverence to him, and par- 
take of the good cheer. 

This patriarchal spirit which characterized the Spanish no- 
bility in the days of their, opulence has declined with their 
fortunes ; but some who, like the Count, still retain their an- 
cient family possessions, keep up a little of the ancient system, 
and have their estates overrun and almost eaten up by genera- 
tions of idle retainers. According to this magnificent old 
Spanish system, in which the national pride and generosity 
bore equal parts, a superannuated servant was never turned 



VISITORS TO THE! ALHAMBRA. 129 

off, but became a charge for the rest of his days; nay, his 
children, and his children's children, and often their relations, 
to the right and left, became gradually entailed upon the 
family. Hence the huge palaces of the Spanish nobility, 
which have such an air of empty ostentation from the great- 
ness of their size compared with the mediocrity and scanti- 
ness of their furniture, were absolutely required in the golden 
days of Spain by the patriarchal habits of their possessors. 
They were little better than vast barracks for the hereditary 
generations of hangers-on that battened at the expense of a 
Spanish noble. The worthy Count, who has estates in various 
parts of the kingdom, assures me that some of them barely 
feed the hordes of dependents nestled upon them ; who con- 
sider themselves entitled to be maintained upon the place, rent 
free, because their forefathers have been so for generations. 

The domestic fete of the Count broke in upon the usual still 
hf e of the Alhambra. Music and laughter resounded through 
its late silent halls ; there were groups of the guests amusing 
themselves about the galleries and gardens, and officious ser- 
vants from town hurrying through the courts, bearing viands 
to the ancient kitchen, which was again alive with the tread of 
cooks and scullions, and blazed with unwonted fires. 

The feast, for a Spanish set dinner is literally a feast, was 
laid in the beautiful moresco hall called "la sala de las dos Her- 
manas," (the saloon of the two sisters;) the table groaned with 
abundance, and a joyous conviviality prevailed round the 
board ; for though the Spaniards are generally an abstemious 
people, they are complete revellers at a banquet. 

For my own part, there was something peculiarly interest- 
ing in thus sitting at a feast, in the royal haHs of the Alham- 
bra, given by the representative of one of its most renowned 
conquerors; for the venerable Count, though un warlike him- 
self, is the lineal descendant and representative of the " Great 
Captain." the illustrious Gonsalvo of Cordova, whose sword 
he guards in the archives of his palace at Granada. 

The banquet ended, the company adjourned to the hall of 
ambassadors. Here every one contributed to the general 
amusement by exerting some peculiar talent ; singing, impro- 
vismg, telling wonderful tales, or dancing to that ail-pervad- 
ing talisman of Spanish pleasure, the guitar. 

The life and charm of the whole assemblage, however, was 
the gifted little Carmen. She took her part in two or three 
scenes from Spanish comedies, exhibiting a charming dra- 



130 THE ALHAMBRA. 

matic talent ; she gave imitations of the popular Italian sing- 
ers, with singular and whimsical felicity, and a rare quaUty of 
voice; she imitated the dialects, dances and ballads of the 
gipsies and the neighbouring peasantry, but did every thing 
with a facility, a neatness, a grace, and an all-pervading pret- 
tiness, that were perfectly fascinating. The great charm of 
her performances, however, was their being free from all pre- 
tension or ambition of display. She seemed unconscious of 
the extent of her own talents, and in fact is accustomed only 
to exert them casually, like a child, for the amusement of the 
domestic circle. Her observation and tact must be remark- 
ably quick, for her life is passed in the bosom of her family, 
and she can only have had casual and transient glances at 
the various characters and traits, brought out impromptu in 
moments of domestic hilarity, like the one in question. It is 
pleasing to see the fondness and admiration with which every 
one of the household regards her : she is never spoken of, even 
by the domestics, by any other appellation than that of La 
Nina, "the child," an appellation which thus applied has 
something pecuharly kind and endearing in the Spanish lan- 
guage. 

Never shall I think of the Alhambra without remembering 
the lovely little Carmen sporting in happy and innocent girl- 
hood in its marble halls ; dancing to the sound of the Moorish 
castanets, or mingling the silver warbling of her voice with 
the music of the fountains. 

On this festive occasion several curious and amusing legends 
and traditions were told; many of which have escaped my 
memory ; but of those that most struck me, I will endeavour 
to shape forth some entertainment for the reader. 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL; 

OR, 

THE PILGRIM OF LOVE. 

There was once a Moorish King of Granada who had but 
one son, whom he named Ahmed, to which his courtiers added 
the surname of al Kamel, or the perfect, from the indubitable 
signs of super-excellence which they perceived in him in his 
very infancy. The astrologers countenanced them in their 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 131 

foresight, predicting every thing in his favour that couid 
make a perfect prince and a prosperous sovereign. One cloud 
only rested upon his destiny, and even that was of a roseate 
hue. He would be of an amorous temperament, and run great 
perils from the tender passion. If, however, he could be kept 
from the allurements of love until of mature age, these dan- 
gers woula be averted, and his hfe thereafter be one iminter- 
rupted course of felicity. 

To prevent all danger of the kind, the king wisely deter- 
mined to rear the prince in a seclusion, where he should never 
see a female face nor hear even the name of love. For this 
purpose he built a beautiful palace on the brow of a hill above 
the Alhambra, in the midst of dehghtful gardens, but sur- 
rounded by lofty walls ; being, in fact, the same palace known 
at the present day by the name of the Generaliffe. In this 
palace the youthful prince was shut up and entrusted to the 
guardianship and instiaiction of Ebon Bonabbon, one of the 
wisest and dry est of Arabian sages, who had passed the great- 
est part of his life in Egypt, studying hieroglyphics and mak- 
ing researches among the tombs and pyramids, and who saw 
more charms in an Egyptian mummy than in the most tempt- 
ing of living beauties. The sage was ordered to instruct the 
prince in all kinds of knowledge but one — he is to be kept 
utterly ignorant of love — "use every precaution for the pur- 
pose you may think proper," said the king, "but remember, 
oh Ebon Bonabbon, if my son learns aught of that forbidden 
knowledge, while under your care, your head shaU answer for 
it." A withered smile came over the dry visage of the wise 
Bonabbon at the menace. "Let your majesty's heart be as 
easy about your son as mine is about my head. Am I a man 
Hkely to give lessons in the idle passion?" 

Under the vigilant care of the philosopher, the prince grew 
up in the seclusion of tne palace and its gardens. He had 
black slaves to attend upon him — hideous mutes, who knew 
nothing of love, or if they did, had not words to communicate 
it. His mental endowments were the peculiar care of Ebon 
Bonabbon, who sought to initiate him into the abstruse lore of 
Egypt, but in this the prince made little progress, and it was 
soon evident that he had no turn for philosophy. 

He was, however, amazingly ductile for a youthful prince ; 
ready to follow any advice and always guided by the last coun- 
cillor. He suppressed his yawns, and listened patiently to the 
long and learned discourses of Ebon Bonabbon, from which he 



132 THE ALUAMBRA. 

imbibed a smattering of various kinds of knowledge, and thus 
happily attained his twentieth year, a miracle of princely wis- 
dom, but totally ignorant of love. 

About this time, however, a change came over the conduct 
of the prince. He completely abandoned his studies and took 
to strolling about the gardens and musing by the side of the 
fountains. He had been taught a little music among his vari- 
ous accomplishments; it now engrossed a great part of his 
time, and a turn for poetry became apparent. The sage Ebon 
Bonabbon took the alarm, and endeavoured to work these idle 
humours out of him by a severe course of algebra ; but the 
prince turned from it with distaste. ' ' I cannot endure alge- 
bra," said he ; " it is an abomination to me. I want something 
that speaks more to the heart." 

The sage Ebon Bonabbon shook his dry head at the words. 
" Here's an end to philosophy," thought he. " The prince has 
discovered he has a heart !" He now kept anxious watch upon 
his pupil, and saw that the latent tenderness of his nature 
was in activity, and only wanted an object. He wandered 
about the gardens of the Generaliffe in an intoxication of 
feelings of which he knew not the cause. Sometimes he 
would sit plunged in a delicious reverie ; then he would seize 
his lute and draw from it the most touching notes, and 
then throw it aside, and break forth into sighs and ejacula- 
tions. 

By degrees this loving disposition began to extend to inani- 
mate objects ; he had his favourite flowers which he cherished 
with tender; assiduity then he became attached to various 
trees, and there was one in particular, of a graceful form and 
drooping foliage, on which he lavished his amorous devo- 
tion, carving his name on its bark, hanging garlands on its 
branches, and singing couplets in its praise, to the accompani- 
ment of his lute. 

The sage Ebon Bonabbon was alarmed at this excited state 
of his pupil. He saw him on the very brink of forbidden 
knowledge — the least hint might reveal to him the fatal secret. 
Trembhng for the safety of the prince, and the security of 
his own head, he hastened to draw him from the seductions 
of the garden, and shut him up in the highest tower of 
the Generaliffe. It contained beautiiil apartments, and com- 
manded an almost boundless prospect, but was elevated far 
above that atmosphere of sweets and those witching bowers so 
dangerous to the feelings of the too susceptible Ahmed. 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 133 

What was to be done, however, to reconcile him to this 
restraint and to beguile the tedious hours? He had exhausted 
almost all kinds of agreeable knowledge; and algebra was 
not to be mentioned. Fortunately Ebon Bonabbon had been 
instructed, when in Egypt, in the language of birds, by a 
Jewish Rabbin, who had received it in lineal transmission 
from Solomon the wise, who had been taught it by the Queen 
of Sheba. At the very mention of such a study the eyes of 
the prince sparkled with animation, and he applied himself 
to it with such avidity, that he soon became as great an adept 
as his master. 

The tower of the Generaliff e was no longer a solitude ; he 
had companions at hand with whom he could converse. The 
first acquaintance he formed was with a hawk who had built 
his nest in a crevice of the lofty battlements, from whence he 
soared far and wide in quest of prey. The prince, however, 
found little to like or esteem in him. He was a mere pirate 
of the air, swaggering and boastful, whose talk was all about 
rapine, and carnage, and desperate exploits. 

His next acquaintance was an owl, a mighty wise-looking 
bird, with a large head and staring eyes, who sat blinking 
and goggling all day in a hole in the wall, but roamed forth at 
night. He had great pretensions to wisdom ; talked something 
of astrology and the moon, and hinted at the dark sciences, 
but he was grievously given to metaphysics, and the prince 
found his prosings were more ponderous than those of the 
sage Ebon Bonabbon. 

Then there was a bat, that hung all day by his heels in the 
dark corner of a vault, but sallied out in a slip-shod style at 
twilight. He, however, had but twilight ideas on all subjects, 
derided things of which he had taken but an imperfect view, 
and seemed to take dehght in nothing. 

Beside these there was a swallow, with whom the prince 
was at first much taken. He was a smart talker, but restless, 
bustling, and for ever on the wing; seldom remaining long 
enough for any continued conversation. He turned out in the 
end to be a mere smatterer, who did but skim over the surface 
of things, pretending to know every thing, but knowing noth- 
ing thoroughly. 

These were the only feathered associates with whom the 
prince had any opportunity of exercising his newly acquired 
language; the tower was too high for any other birds to fre- 
quent it. He soon grew weary of his new acquaintances. 



134 THE ALUAMBRA. 

whose conversation spake so little to the head and nothing to 
the heart ; and gradually relapsed into his loneliness. A win- 
ter passed away, spring opened with all its bloom, and 
verdure, and breathing sweetness, and the happy time arrived 
for birds to pair and build their nests. Suddenly, as it were, 
a universal burst of song and melody broke forth from the 
groves and gardens of the Generahffe, and reached the prince 
in the solitude of his tower. From every side he heard the 
sjime universal theme— love — love— love— chaunted forth and 
responded to in every variety of note and tone. The prince 
listened in silence and perplexity. "What can be this lo«^e," 
thought he, ' ' of which the world seems so full, and of which 1 
know nothing?" He applied for information to his friend the 
hawk. The ruffian bird answered in a tone of scorn, — "You 
must apply," said he, " to the vulgar, peaceable birds of earth, 
who are made for the prey of us princes of the air. My trade 
is war, and fighting my dehght. In a word, I am a warrior, 
and know nothing of this thing called love." 

The prince turned from him with disgust, and sought the 
owl in his retreat. "This is a bird," said he, "of peaceful 
habits, and may be able to solve my question. " So he asked 
the owl to tell him what was this love about which all the birds 
in the groves below were singing. 

Upon this the owl put on a look of offended dignity. " My 
nights," said he, " are taken up in study and research, and my 
days in ruminating in myself upon all that I have learnt. As 
to these singing birds of whom you talk, I never listen to them. 
I despise them and their themes. Allah be praised, I cannot 
sing. In a word, I am a philosopher, and know nothing of 
this thing called love." 

The prince now repaired to the vault where his friend the 
bat was hanging by the heels, and propounded the same ques- 
tion. The bat wrinkled up his nose into a most snappish ex- 
pression. "Why do you disturb me in my morning's nap 
with such an idle question," said he peevishly. "I only fly 
by twilight when aU birds are asleep, and never trouble myself 
with their concerns. I am neither bird nor beast, and I thank 
heaven for it. I have found out the villainy of the whole of 
them, and hate them, one and all. In a word, I am a mis- 
anthrope, and know nothing of this thing called love." 

As a last resort, the prince was now sought the swallow, and 
stopped him just as he was circling about the summit of the 
tower. The swallow as usual was in a prodigious hurry, and 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 135 

had scarce time to make a reply. " Upon my word," said he, 
" I have so much pubhc business to attend to, and so many 
pursuits to follow, that I have had no time to think on the 
subject. I have every day a thousand visits to pay ; a thou- 
sand affairs of importance to examine into, that leave me not a 
moment of leisure for these little sing-song matters. In a 
word, I am a citizen of the world. I know nothing of this 
thing called love." So saying, the swallow dived into the 
valley and was out of sight in a moment. 

The prince remained disappointed and perplexed, but with 
his curiosity still more piqued by the difficulty of gratifying it. 
While in this mood his ancient guardian entered the tower. 
The prince advanced eagerly to meet him. " Oh sage Ebon 
Bonabbon, " cried he, ' ' thou hast revealed to me much of the 
wisdom of the earth, but there is one thing of which I remain 
in utter ignorance, and would fain be informed." 

''My prince has but to make the inquiry, and everything 
within the limited range of his servant's intellect is at his com- 
mand." 

"Tell me then, oh most profound of sages, what is the na- 
ture of this thing called love?" 

The sage Ebon Bonabbon was struck as with a thunderbolt. 
He trembled and turned pale, and felt as if his head sat but 
loosely on his shoulders. 

"What could suggest such a question to my prince?— where 
could he have learnt so idle a word?" 

The prince led him to the window of the tower. " Listen, 
oh Ebon Bonabbon !" said he. The sage listened. The night- 
ingale sat in a thicket below the tower singing to his paramour, 
the rose ; from every blossomed spray and tufted grove arose 
a strain of melody, and love — love —love, was still the unvary- 
ing theme. "Allah Achbar! God is great!" exclaimed the 
wise Bonabbon. " Who shall pretend to keep this secret from 
the hearts of men when even the birds of the air conspire tc 
betray it?" 

Then turning to Ahmed, " Oh my prince," cried he, "shut 
thine ears to these seductive strains. Close thy mind against 
this dangerous knowledge. Know that this love is the cause 
of haK the ills of wretched mortality. It is this which pro- 
duces bitterness of strife between brethren and friends ; which 
causes treacherous murder and desolating war. Care and sor- 
row, weary days and sleepless nights, are its attendants. It 
withers the bloom and blights the joys of youth, and brings 



136 THE ALHAMBRA. 

on the ills and griefs of premature old age. A^Uah preserve 
thee, my prince, in total ignorance of this thing called love !" 

The sage Ebon Bonabbon hastily retired, leaving the prince 
plunged in still deeper perplexity. It was in vain he at- 
tempt ed to dismiss the subject from his mind; it still con- 
tinued uppermost in his thoughts, and teased and exhausted 
him with vain conjectures. " Surely ," said he to himself as 
he listened to the tuneful strains of the birds, "there is no 
sorrow in these notes : every thing seems tenderness and joy. 
If love be a cause of such wretchedness and strife, why are 
not those birds drooping in solitude, or tearing each other in 
pieces, instead of fluttering cheerfully about the groves, or 
sporting with each other among the flowers?" 

He lay one morning on his couch meditating on this in- 
explicable matter. The window of his chamber was open to 
admit the soft morning breeze which came laden with the per- 
fume of orange blossoms from the valley of the Darro. The 
voice of the nightingale was faintly heard, stiU chanting the 
wonted theme. As the prince was listening and sighing, there 
was a sudden rushing noise in the air ; a beautiful dove, pur- 
sued by a hawk, darted in at the window and fell panting on 
the floor ; while the pursuer, balked of his prey, soared off to 
the mountains. 

The prince took up the gasping bird, smoothed its feathers, 
and nestled it in his bosom. When he had soothed it by his 
caresses he put it in a golden cage, and offered it, with his 
own hands, the whitest and finest of wheat and the purest of 
water. The bird, however, refused food, and sat drooping and 
pining, and uttering piteous moans. 

"What aileth thee?" said Ahmed. "Hast thou not every 
thing thy heart can wish?" 

"Alas, no!" repHed the dove, " am I not separated from the 
partner of my heart— and that too in the happy spring-time— 
the very season of love?" 

"Of love!" echoed Ahmed. " I pray thee, my pretty bird, 
canst thou then teU me what is love?" 

" Too well can I, my prince. It is the torment of one, the 
felicity of two, the strife and enmity of three. It is a charm 
which draws two beings together, and unites them by delicious 
sympathies, making it happiness to be with each other, but 
misery to be apart. Is there no being to whom you are drawn 
by these ties of tender affection?" 

"I like my old teacher, Ebon Bonabbon, better than any 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. I37 

other being; but he is often tedious, and I occasionally feel 
myself happier without his society. " 

"That is not the sympathy I mean. I speak 01 love, the 
great mystery and principle of life ; the intoxicating revel of 
youth ; the sober delight of age. Look forth my prince, and 
behold how at this blest season all nature is full of love. Every 
created being has its mate ; the most insignificant bird sings to 
its paramour; the very beetle woos its lady beetle in the dust, 
and yon butterflies which you see fluttering high above tho 
tower and toying in the air are happy in each other's love. 
Alas, my prince ! hast thou spent so many of the precious days 
of youth without knowing any thing of love ! Is there no gen- 
tle being of another sex ; no beautiful princess, or lovely damsel 
who has ensnared your heart, and filled your bosom with a 
soft tumult of pleasing pains and tender wishes?" 

" I begin to understand !" said the prince sighing. " Such a 
tumult I have more than once experienced without knowing 
the cause ; and where should I seek for an object such as you 
describe in this dismal sohtude?" 

A little further conversation ensued, and the first amatory 
lesson of the prince \7as complete. 

"Alas!" said he, "if love be indeed such a delight, and its 
interruption such a misery, Allah forbid that I shoidd mar the 
joy of any of its votaries." He opened the cage, took out the 
dove, and, having fondly kissed it, carried it to the window. 
"Gro, happy bird," said he, "rejoice with the partner of thy 
heart in the days of youth and spring-time. Why should I 
make thee a fellow prisoner in this dreary tower, where love 
can never enter?" 

The dove flapped its wings in rapture, gave one vault into 
the air, and then swooped downward on whisthng wings to 
the blooming bowers of the Darro. 

The prince followed him with his eyes, and then gave way to 
bitter repining. The singing of the birds which once dehghted 
him now added to his bitterness. Love! love! lovell Alas, 
I>oor youth, he now understood the strain. 

His eyes flashed fire when next he beheld the sage Bonab- 
bon. "Why hast thou kept me in this abject ignorance?" 
cried he. "Why has the great mystery and principle of hfe 
been withheld from me, in which 1 find the meanest insect is 
so learned? Behold all nature is in a revel of dehght. Every 
created being rejoices with its mate. This — this is the love 
about which I have sought instruction; why am I alone de- 



138 THE ALHAMBRA. 

barred its enjoyment? why hast so much of my youth been 
wasted without a knowledge of its raptured" 

The sage Bonabbon saw that all further reserve was use- 
less, for the prince had acquired the dangerous and forbidden 
knowledge. He revealed to him, therefore, the predictions 
of the astrologers, and the precautions that had been taken 
in his education to avert the threatened evils. "And now, 
my prince," added he, "my life is in your hands. Let the 
king your father discover that you have learned the passion 
of love while under my guardianship, and my head must an- 
swer for it." 

The prince was as reasonable as most young men of his age, 
and easily listened to the remonstrances of his tutor, since 
nothing pleaded against them. Beside, he really was at- 
tached to the sage Bonabbon, and being as yet but theoreti- 
cally acquainted with the passion of love, he consented to 
confine the knowledge of it co his own bosom, rather than 
endanger the head of the philosopher. His discretion was 
doomed, however, to be put to still further proofs. A few 
mornings afterwards, as he was ruminating on the battle- 
ments of the tower, the dove which had been released by him 
came hovering in the air, and alighted fearlessly upon his 
shoulder. 

The prince fondled it to his breast. "Happy bird," said he, 
"who can fly, as it were, with the wings of the morning to 
the uttermost parts of the earth. Where hast thou been since 
we parted?" 

"In a far country, my prince; from whence I bring you 
tidings in reward for my liberty. In the wide compass of my 
flight, which extends over plain and mountain, as I was soar- 
ing in the air, I beheld below me a delightful garden with aU 
kinds of fruits and flowers. It was in a green meadow on 
the banks of a meandering stream, and in the centre of the 
garden was a stately palace. I aUghted in one of the bowers 
to repose after my weary flight ; on the green bank below me 
was a youthful princess in the very sweetness and bloom of 
her years. She was surrounded by female attendants, young 
like herself, who decked her with garlands and coronets of 
flowers ; but no flower of field or garden could compare with 
her for loveliness. Here, however, she bloomed in secret, for 
the garden was surrounded by high walls, and no mortal man 
was permitted to enter. When I beheld this beauteous maid 
thus young, and innocent, and unspotted by the world, I 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 139 

thought, here is the being formed by heaven to inspire my 
prince with love." 

The description was as a spark of fire to the combustible 
heart of Ahmed ; all the latent amorousness of his tempera- 
ment had at once found an object, and he conceived an 
immeasurable passion for the princess. He wrote a letter 
couched in the most impassioned language, breathing his fer- 
vent devotion, but bewailing the unhappy thraldom of his j)er- 
son, which prevented him from seeking her out, and throwing 
himself at her feet. He added couplets of the most tender 
and moving eloquence, for he was a poet by nature and in- 
spired by love. He addressed his letter, "To the unknown 
beauty, from the captive prince Ahmed," then perfuming it 
with musk and roses, he gave it to the dove. 

"Away, trustiest of messengers," said he. " Fly over moun- 
tain, and valley, and river, and plain ; rest not in bower nor 
set foot on earth, until thou hast given this letter to the mis- 
tress of my heart." 

The dove soared high in air, and taking his course darted 
away in one undeviating direction. The prince followed him 
with his eye until he was a mere speck on a cloud, and grad- 
ually disappeared behind a mountain. 

Day after day he watched for the return of the messenger 
of love; but he watched in vain. He began to accuse him of 
forgetfulness, when towards sunset, one evening, the faithful 
bird fluttered into his apartment, and, falling at his feet, ex- 
pired. The arrow of some wanton archer had pierced his 
breast, yet he had struggled with the lingerings of life to exe- 
cute his mission. As the prince bent with grief over this 
gentle martyr to fidelity, he beheld a chain of pearls round 
his neck, attached to which, beneath his wing, was a small 
enamelled picture. It represented a lovely princess in the 
very flower of her years. It was, doubtless, the unknown 
beauty of the garden : but who and where was she— how had 
she received his letter— and was this picture sent as a token 
of an approval of his passion? Unfortunately, the death of 
the faithful dove left every thing in mystery and doubt. 

The prince gazed on the picture till his eyes swam with 
tears. He pressed it to his lips and to his heart : he sat for 
hours contemplating it in an almost agony of tenderness. 
"Beautiful image!" said he. "Alas, thou art but an image. 
Yet thy dewy eyes beam tenderly upon me ; those rosy lips 
look as though they would speak encouragement. Vain fan- 



140 THE ALHAMBUA. 

cies I Have they not looked the same on some more happy 
rival? But where in this wide world shall I hope to find the 
original? Who knows what mountains, what realms may 
separate us? What adverse chance may intervene? Perhajps 
now, even now, lovers may be crowding around her, while I 
sit here, a prisoner in a tower, wasting my time in adoration 
of a painted shadow." 

The resolution of prince Alimecl. was taken. "I will fly from 
this palace," said he, "which has become an odious prison, and, 
a pilgrim of love, will seek this unknown princess throughout 
the world." 

To escape from the tower in the day, when every one was 
awake, might be a diflScult matter; but at night the palace 
was slightly guarded, for no one apprehended any attempt of 
the kind from the prince, who had always been so passive in 
his captivity. How was he to guide himself, however, in his 
darkling flight, being ignorant of the country? He bethought 
him of the owl, who was accustomed to roam at night, and 
must know every by-lane and secret pass. Seeking him in his 
hermitage, he questioned him touching his knowledge of the 
land. Upon this the owl put on a mighty self-important look. 

" You must know, O prince," said he, "that we owls are of 
a very ancient and extensive family, though rather fallen to 
decay, and possess ruinous castles and palaces in all i^arts of 
Spain. There is scarcely a tower of the mountains, or fortress 
of the plains, or an old citadel of a city but has some brother, 
or uncle, or cousin quartered in it; and in going the rounds 
to visit these my numerous Ivindred I have pryed mto every 
nook and corner, and made myself acquainted with every 
secret of the land. " 

The prince was overjoyed to find the owl so deeply versed 
in topography, and now informed him, in confidence, of his 
tender passion and his intended elopement, urging him to be 
his companion and counseUor. 

"Go to!" said the owl, with a look of displeasure. "Am I 
a bird to engage in a love affair ; I whose whole time is devoted 
to meditation and the moon !" 

"Be not offended, most solemn owl!" replied the prince. 
"Abstract thyself for a time from meditation and the moon, 
and aid me in my flight, and thou shalt have whatever heart 
*an wish." 

"I have that already," said the owl. "A few mice are suffi- 
cient for my frugal table, and this hole in the wall is spacious 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 141 

enough for my studies, and what more does a philosopher hke 
mj^self desire?" 

' ' Bethink thee, mo^t wise owl, that while moping in thy cell 
and gazing at the moon all thy talents are lost to the world. I 
shall one day be a sovereign prince, and may advance thee to 
some post of honour and dignity." 

The owl, though a philosopher and above the ordinary 
wants of life, was not above ambition, so he was finally pre- 
vailed upon to elope with the prince, and be his guide and 
Mantor in his pilgrimage. 

The plans of a lover are promptly executed. The prince col- 
lected all his jewels, and concealed them about his person as 
travelling funds. That very night he lowered himself by his 
scarf from a balcony of the tower, clambered over the outer 
walls of the Generalise, and, guided by the owl, made good his 
escape before morning to the mountains. 

He now held a council with his Mentor as to his future 
course. 

"Might I advise," said the owl, "I would recommend you 
to repair to Seville. You must know that many years since I 
was on a visit to an uncle, an owl of great dignity and power, 
who lived in a ruined wing of the Alcazar of that place. In 
my hoverings at night over the city, I frequently remarked a 
light burning m. a lonely tower. At length I ahghted on the 
battlements, and found it to proceed from the lamp of an Ara- 
bian magician. He was surrounded by his magic books, and 
on his shoulder was perched his familiar, an ancient raven, 
who had come with him from Egypt. I became acquainted 
with that raven, and owe to him a great part of the know< 
led;4e I possess. The magician is since dead, but the raven 
still inhabits the tower, for these birds are of wonderful long 
life. I would advise you, O prince, to seek that raven, for 
he is a soothsayer and a conjuror, and deals in the black art, 
for which all ravens, and especially those of Egypt, are re- 
nowned." 

The prince was struck with the wisdom of this advice, and 
accordingly bent his course towards Seville. He travelled 
only in the night, to accommodate his companion, and lay by 
during the day in some dark cavern or mouldering watch- 
tower, fer the owl knew every hiding hole of the kind in the 
country, and had a most antiquarian taste for ruins. 

At length, one morning at day-break, they reached the city 
of Seville, where the owl, who hated the glare and bustle of 



142 ^'^^' ALHAMBEA. 

crowded streets, halted without the gate, and took up his 
quarters in a hollow tree. 

The prince entered the gate, and readily found the magic 
tower, which rose above the houses of the city as a palm-tree 
rises above the shrubs of the desert. It was, in fact, the same 
tower known at the present day as the Giralda, the famous 
Moorish tower of Seville. 

The prince ascended by a great winding staircase to the 
summit of the tower, where he found the cabahstic raven, an 
old, mysterious, gray-headed bird, ragged in feather, with a 
film over one eye that gave him the glare of a spectre. He 
was perched on one leg, with his head turned on one side, and 
poring with his remaining eye on a diagram described on the 
pavement. 

The prince approached him with the awe and reverence 
naturally inspired by his venerable appearance and super- 
natural wisdom. ' ' Pardon me, most ancient and darkly wise 
raven," exclaimed he, "if for a moment I interrupt those 
studies which are the wonder of the world. You behold before 
you a votary of love, who would fain seek counsel how to ob- 
tain the object of his passion." 

"In other words," said the raven, with a significant look, 
" you seek to try my skiU in palmistry. Come, show me your 
band, and let me decipher the mysterious lines -of fortune." 

"Excuse me," said the prince, " I come not to pry into the 
decrees of fate, which are hidden by Allah from the eyes of 
mortals. I am a pilgrim of love, and seek but to find a clue to 
the object of my pilgrimage." 

"And can you be at any loss for an object in amorous 
Andalusia?" said the old raven, leering upon him with his 
single eye. "Above ail, can you be at a loss in wanton Seville, 
where black-eyed damsels dance the zambra under every 
orange grove?" 

The prince blushed, and was somewhat shocked at hearing 
an old bird, with one foot in the grave, talk thus loosely. 
"Believe me," said he gravely, "I am on none such Hght and 
vagrant errand as thou dost insinuate. The black-eyed dam- 
sels of Andalusia who dance among the orange groves of the 
Guadalquiver, are as naught to me. I seek one unknown but 
immaculate beauty, the original of this picture, and I beseech 
thee, most potent raven, if it be within the scope of thy know- 
ledge, or the reach of thy art, inform me where she may be 
found." 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. I43 

The gray-headed raven was rebuked by the gravity of the 
prince. "What know I," rephed he dryly, "of youth and 
Deauty? My visits are to the old and withered, not the young 
and fair. The harbinger of fate am I, who croak bodings of 
death from the chimney top, and flap my wings at the sick 
man's window. You must seek elsewhere for tidings of your 
unknown beauty." 

"And where am I to seek, if not among the sons of wisdom, 
versed in the book of destiny? A royal prince am I, fated by 
the stars, and sent on a mysterious enterprise, on which may 
hang the destiny of empires." 

When the raven heard that it was a matter of vast moment, 
in which the stars took interest, he changed his tone and 
manner, and listened with profound attention to the story of 
the prince. When it was concluded, he replied, "Touching 
this princess, I can give thee no information of myself, for my 
flight is not among gardens or around ladies' bowers ; but hie 
thee to Cordova, seek the palm-tree of the great Abderahman, 
which stands in the court of the principal mosque ; at the foot 
of it you will find a great traveller, who has visited all coun- 
tries and courts, and been a favourite with queens and prin- 
cesses. He will give you tidings of the object of your 
search." 

"Many thanks for this precious mformation," said the 
prince. "Farewell, most venerable conjuror." 

"Farewell, pilgrim of love," said the raven dryly, and again 
fell to pondering on the diagram. 

The prince sallied forth from Seville, sought his fellow- 
traveller the owl, who was still dozing in the hollow tree, and 
set off for Cordova. 

He approached it along hanging gardens, and orange and 
citron groves overlooking*the fair valley of the Guadalquiver. 
When arrived at its gates, the owl flew up to a dark hole in 
the wall, and the prince proceeded in quest of the palm-tree 
planted in days of yore by the great Abderahman. It stood in 
the midst of the great court of the Mosque, towering from 
amidst orange and cjrpress trees. Dervises and Faquirs were 
seated in groups under the cloisters of the court, and many of 
the faithful were performing their ablutions at the fountains, 
before entering the Mosque. 

At the foot of the palm-tree was a crowd listening to the 
words of one who appeared to be talking with great volubilitv. 
This, said the prince to himself, must be the great travellei* 



144 THE ALHAMBRA. 

who is to give me tidings of the unknown princess. Me 
mingled in the crowd, but was astonished to perceive that 
they were all listening to a parrot, who, with his bright green 
coat, pragmatical eye, and consequential topknot, had the air 
of a bird on excellent terms with himself. 

"How is this," said the prince to one of the bystanders, 
" that so many gTave persons can be delighted with the garrul- 
ity of a chattering bird?" 

" You know not of whom you speak," sstid the other; "this 
parrot is a descendant of the famous parrot of Persia, renowned 
for his story-telling talent. He has ah the learning of the East 
at the tip of his tongue, and can quote poetry as fast as he can 
talk. He has visited various foreign courts, where h-^ has been 
considered an oracle of erudition. He has been a universal 
favourite also with the fair sex, who have a vast adnination 
for erudite parrots that can quote poetry." 

"Enough," said the prince, "I will have some private talk 
with this distinguished trjiveller." 

He sought a private in\,erview, and expounded the nature of 
his errand. He had scai-cely mentioned it when the parrot 
burst into a fit of dry rickety laughter, that absolutely brought 
tears in his eyes. "Excuse my mirth," said he, " but the mere 
mention of love always sets me laughing." 

The prince was shocked at this ill-timed merriment. " Is 
not love," said he, "the great mystery of nature, — the secret 
principle of life, — the universal bond of sympathy?" 

' ' A fig's end !" cried the parrot, interrupting him. ' ' Pry 'thee 
where hast thou learnt this sentimental jargon? Trust me, 
love is quite out of vogue ; one never hears of it in the company 
of wits and people of refinement." 

The prince sighed as he recalled the different language of his 
friend the dove. But this parrot, thought he, has lived about 
court; he aifects the wit and the fine gentleman; he knows 
nothing of the thing called love. 

Unwilhng to provoke any more ridicule of the sentiment 
which filled his heart, he now directed his inquiries to the 
immedipLte purport of his visit. 

"Tell me," said he, "most accomplished paiTot, thou who 
hast every where been admitted to the most secret bowers of 
beauty, hast thou in the course of thy travels met with the 
original of this portrait?" 

The parrot took the picture in his claw, turned his head from 
side to side, and examined it curiously with either eye. " Upon 



LEGEND OF PEINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 145 

my honour, " said he, ''a very pretty face; very pretty. But 
then one sees so many pretty women in one's travels that one 
can hardly— but hold— bless me ! now I look at it again— sure 
enough, this is the princess Aldegonda: how could I forget one 
that is so i^rodigious a favourite with me?" 

" The princess Aldegonda!" echoed the prince, "and where is 
she to be foimid?" 

"Softly— softly," said the parrot, "easier to be found than 
gained. She is the only daughter of the Christian king who 
reigns at Toledo, and is shut up from the world until her 
seventeenth birth-day, on account of some prediction of those 
meddlesome feUows, the astrologers. You'll not get a sight of 
her, no mortal man can see her. I was admitted to her pres- 
ence to entertain her, and I assure you, on the word of a parrot 
^^ho has seen the world, I have conversed with much sillier 
princesses in my time." 

"A word in confidence, my dear parrot," said the prince. 
" I am heu- to a kingdom, and shall one day sit upon a throne. 
I see that you are a bird of parts and undei-stood the word. 
Help me to gain possession of this princess and I will advance 
you to some distingLiished post about court." 

" With all my heart," said the parrot; " but let it be a sine- 
cure if possible, for we wits have a great dishke to labour." 

Arrangements were promptly made ; the prince salhed forth 
from Cordova through the same gate by which he had entered ; 
called the owl down from the hole in the wall, introduced him 
to his new travelling companion as a brother sgavant, and away 
they set off on their journey. 

They travelled much more slowly than accorded with the 
impatience of the prince, but the parrot was accustomed to 
high life, and did not like to be disturbed early in the morning. 
The owl, on the other hand, was for sleeping at mid-day, and 
lost a great deal of time by his long siestas. His antiquarian 
taste also was in the way ; for he insisted on pausing and in- 
specting every ruin, and had long legendary tales to tell about 
every old tower and castle in the country. The prince had 
supposed that he and the parrot, being both birds of learning, 
could delight in each other's society, but never had he been 
more mistaken. They were eternally bickering. The one was 
a wit, the other a philosopher. The parrot quoted poetry, was 
critical on new readings, and eloquent on small points of eru- 
dition; the owl treated all such knowledge as trifling, and 
relished nothing but metaphysics. Then the parrot would sing 



146 THE ALHAMBBA. 

songs and repeat bon mots, and crack jokes upon his solemn 
neighbour, and laugh outrageously at his own wit; all which 
the owl considered a grievous invasion of his dignity, and 
would scowl, and sulk, and swell, and sit silent for a whole day 
together. 

The prince heeded not the wrangiings of his companions, 
being wrapped up in the dreams of his own fancy, and the 
contemplation of the portrait of tho beautiful princess. In this 
way they journeyed through the stern passes of the Sierra Mo- 
rena, across the sunburnt plains of La Mancha and Castile, and 
along the banks of the " Golden Tagus," which winds its wizard 
mazes over one-half of Spain and Portugal. At length, they 
came in sight of a strong city with walls and towers, built on 
a rocky promontory, round the foot of wliich the Tagus circled 
with brawling violence. 

"Behold," exclaimed the owl, "the ancient and renowned 
city of Toledo ; a city famous for its antiquities. Behold those 
venerable domes and towers, hoary vfith time, and clothed 
with legendary grandeur ; in which so many of my ancestors 
have meditated — " 

" Pish," cried the parrot, interrupting his solemn antiquarian 
rapture, "what have we to do with antiquities, and legends, 
and your ancestors? Behold, what is more to the purpose, be- 
hold the abode of youth and beauty, — behold, at length, oh 
prince, the abode of your long sought princess. " 

The prince looked in the direction indicated by the parrot, 
and beheld, in a delightful green meadow on the banks of the 
Tagus, a stately palace rising from* amidst the bowers of a 
delicious garden. It was just such a place as had been de- 
scribed by the dove as the residence of the original of the pic- 
ture. He gazed at it with a throbbing heart: " Perhaps at 
this moment," thought he, "the beautiful princess is sporting 
beneath those shady bowers, or pacing with delicate step those 
stately terraces, or reposing beneath those lofty roofs !" As he 
looked more narrowly, he perceived that the walls of the gar- 
den were of great height, so as to defy access, while numbers 
of armed guards patrolled around them. 

The prince turned to the parrot. " Oh most accomplished of 
oirds," said he, "thou hast the gift of human speech. Hie 
thee to yon garden ; seek the idol of my soul, and tell her that 
prince Ahmed, a pilgrim of love, and guided by the stars, has 
arrived in quest of her on the flowery banks of the Tagus." 

The parrot, proud of his embassy, flew away to the garden 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 147 

mounted above its lofty walls, and, after soaring for a time 
Dver the lawns and groves, alighted on the balcony of a 
pavilion that overhuiig the river. Here, looking in at the 
casement, he beheld the princess reclining on a couch, with her 
eyes fixed on a paper, while tears gently stole after each other 
down her pallid cheek. 

Pluming his wings for a moment, adjusting his bright green 
coat, and elevating his topknot, the parrot perched himself 
beside her with a gallant air ; then assuming a tenderness of 
tone,— 

''Dry thy tears, most beautiful of princesses," said he, "I 
come to bring solace to thy heart." 

The princess was startled on hearing a voice, but turning 
and seeing nothing but a little green-coated bird bobbing and 
bowing before her: — "Alas! what solace canst thou yield," 
said she, " seeing thou art but a parrot?" 

The parrot was nettled at the question. ' ' I have consoled 
many beautiful ladies in my time, " said he ; " but let that pass. 
At present, I come ambassador from a royal prince. Know 
that Ahmed, the prince of Granada, has arrived in quest of 
thee, and is encamped even now on the flowery banks of the 
Tagus." 

The eyes of the beautiful princess sparkled at these wards, 
even brighter than the diamonds in her coronet. ' ' O sweetest 
of parrots," cried she, "joyful indeed are thy tidings; for I 
was faint, and weary, and sick almost unto death, with doubt 
of the constancy of Ahmed. Hie thee back, and tell him that 
the words of his letter are engraven in my heart, and his 
poetry has been the food of my soul. Tell him, however, that 
he must prepare to prove his love by force of arms ; to-morrow 
is my seventeenth birth-day, when the king, my father, holcls 
a great tournament ; several princes are to enter the lists, and 
my hand is to be the prize of the victor." 

The parrot again took wing, and, rustling through the groves, 
flew back to where the prince awaited his return. The rapture 
of Ahmed on finding the original of his adored portrait, and 
finding her kind and true, can only be conceived by those 
favoured mortals, who have had the good fortune to realize day 
dreams, and turn shadows into substance. Still there was one 
thing that alloyed his transport, — this impending tournament. 
In fact, the banks of the Tagus were already glittering with 
arms, and resounding with trumpets of the various knights, 
who with proud retinues were prancing on towards Toledo to 



148 THE ALHAMBRA. 

attend the ceremonial. The same star that had crntroUed the 
destiny of the prince, had governed that of the princess, and 
until her seventeenth birth-day, she had been shut up from 
the world, to guard her from the tender passion, f he fame of 
her charms, however, had been enhanced, rather tnan obscured 
by this seclusion. Several powerful princes had contended for 
her alliance, and her father, who was a kmg oi wondrous 
shrewdness, to avoid making enemies by showing partiality, 
had referred them to the arbitrament of arms. Among the 
rival candidates, were several renowned for strength and 
prowess. What a predicament for the unfortunate Ahmed, 
unprovided as he was with weapons, and unskilled in the exer- 
cises of chivalry. "Luckless prince that I ami'- said he, "to 
have been brought up in seclusion, under the eyt of a philoso- 
pher! of what avail are algebra and philosophy in affairs of 
love ! alas, Ebon Bonabbon, why hast thou neglected to instruct 
me in the management of arms?" Upon this the ov4 brokQ 
silence prefacing his harangue with a pious ejaculation, for he 
was a devout Mussulman : 

"Allah Achbar! 'God is great,'" exclaimed he, "in his 
hands are all secret things, he alone governs the destiny of 
princes ! Know, O prince, that this land is full of mysteries, 
hidden from all but those who, like myself, can grope after 
knowledge in the dark. Know that in the neighbouring moun- 
tains there is a cave, and in that cave there is an iron table, 
and on that table lies a suit of magic armour, and beside that 
table stands a spell-bound steed, which have been shut up there 
for many generations." 

The prince stared v/ith wonder, while the owl blinking his 
huge round eyes and erecting his horns proceeded : 

" Many years since, I accompanied my father to these parts 
on a tour of his estates, and we sojourned in that cave, and 
thus became I acquainted with the mystery. It is a tradition 
in our family, which I have heard from my grandfather when 
I was yet but a very little owlet, that this armour belonged to 
a Moorish magician, who took refuge in this cavern when 
Toledo was captured by the Christians, and died here, leaving 
his steed and weapons under a mystic spell, never to be used 
but by a Moslem, and by him only from sunrise to mid-day. 
In that interval, whoever uses them, will overthrow every 
opponent." 

"Enough, let us seek this cave," exclaimed Ahmed. 

Guided by his legendary Mentor, the prince found the 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AX KAMEL. I49 

cavern, which was in one of the wildest recesses of those rocky 
chffs which rose around Toledo ; none but the mousing eye of 
an owl or an antiquary could have discovered the entrance to 
it. A sepulchral lamp of everlasting oil shed a solemn light 
through the place. On an iron table in the centre of the 
cavern lay the magic armour, against it leaned the lance, and 
beside it stood an Arabian steed, caparisoned for the field, but 
motionless as a statue. The armour was bright and unsullied, 
as it had gleamed in days of old ; the steed in as good con- 
dition as if just from the pasture, and when x\hmed laid his 
hand upon his neck, he pawed the gromid and gave a loud 
neigh of joy that shook the walls of the cavern. Thus pro- 
vided with horse to ride and weapon to wear, the prince de- 
termined to defy the field at the impending tourney. 

The eventful morning arrived. The hsts for the combat 
were prepared in the Yega or plain just below the cliff -built 
walls of Toledo. Here were erected stages and galleries for 
the spectators, covered with rich tapestry and sheltered from 
the sun by silken awnings. All the beauties of the land were 
assembled in those galleries, while below pranced plumed 
knights mth their pages and esquires, among whom figured 
conspicuously the princes who were to contend in the tourney. 
All the beauties of the land, however, were echpsed, when the 
princess Aldegonda appeared in the royal pavilion, and for 
the first time broke forth upon the gaze of an admiring world. 
A murmur of wonder ran through the crowd at her transcend- 
ant loveliness ; and the princes who were candidates for her 
hand merely on the faith of her reported charms, now felt ten- 
fold ardour for the conflict. 

The princess, however, had a troubled look. The colour 
came and went from her cheek, and her eye wandered with a 
restless and unsatisfied expression over the plumed throng of 
knights. The trumpets were about sounding for the encounter 
when a herald announced the arrival of a stranger knight, and 
Ahmed rode into the field. A steeled helmet studded with 
gems rose above his turban; his cuirass was embossed with 
gold ; liis scimitar and dagger were of the workmanship of 
Fay, and flamed with precious stones. A round shield was at 
his shoulder, and in his hand he bore the lance of charmed 
virtue. The caparison of his Arabian was richly embroidered, 
and swept the ground; and the proud animal pranced and 
snuffed the air, and neighed with joy at once more beholding 
the array of arms. The lofty and graceful demeanour of the 



150 THE ALEAMBIIA. 

prince struck every eye, and when his appellation was an- 
nounced, " The pilgrim of love," a universal flutter and agita- 
tion prevailed among the fair dames in the galleries. 

When Ahmed presented himself at the lists, however, they 
were closed against him ; none but princes, he was told, were 
admitted to the contest. He declared his name and rank. Still 
worse, he was a Moslem, and could not engage in a tourney 
where the hand of a Christian princess was the prize. 

The rival princes surrounded him with haughty and men- 
acing aspects, and one of insolent demeanour and Herculean 
frame sneered at his light and youthful form, and scoffed at 
his amorous appellation. The ire of the prince was roused ; he 
defied his rival to the encounter. They took distance, wheeled, 
and charged ; at the first touch of the magic lance the brawny 
scoffer was tilted from his saddle. Here thj prince would have 
paused, but alas I he had to deal with a demoniac horse and 
armour: once in action, nothipg could control them. The 
Arabian steed charged into the thickest of the throng: the 
lance overturned every thing that presented ; the gentle prince 
Avas carried pell-mell about the field, strewing it with high and 
low, gentle and simple, and grieving at his own involuntary 
exploits. The king stormed and raged at this outrage on his 
sul3jects and liis guests. He ordered out all his guards — they 
were unhoi-sed as fast as they came up. The king threw off his 
robes, grasped buckler and lance, and rode forth to awe the 
stranger with the presence of majesty itself. Alas, majesty 
fared no better than the vulgar ; the steed and lance were no 
respecters of persons ; to the dismay of Ahmed, he was borne 
full tilt against the king, and in a moment the royal heels were 
in the air, and the crown was rolling in the dust. 

At this moment the sun reached the meridian ; the magic 
spell resumed its power. The Arabian steed scoured across the 
plain, leaped the barrier, plunged into the Tagus, svram i'o 
raging current, bore the prince, breathless and amazed, to tho 
cavern, and resumed his station like a statue beside the ii-on 
table. The prince dismounted right gladly, and replaced the 
armour, to abide the further decrees of fate. Then seating him- 
self in the cavern, he ruminated on the desperate state to 
which this bedeviled steed and armour had reduced him. 
Never should he dare to show his face at Toledo, after inflict- 
ing such disgrace upon its chivalry, and such an outrage on 
its king. What, too, would the princess think of so rude and 
riotous an achievement? Full of anxiety, he sent forth his 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 151 

winged messengers to gather tidings. The parrot resorted to 
all the public places and crowded resorts of the city, and 
soon returned with a world of gossip. All Toledo was in con- 
sternation. The princess had been borne off senseless to the 
palace ; the tournament had ended in confusion ; every one was 
talking of the sudden apparition, prodigious exploits, and 
strange disappearance of the Moslem knight. Some pro- 
nounced liim a Moorish magician ; others thought him a demon 
who had assumed a human shape; while others related tradi- 
tions of enchanted warriors hidden in the caves of the moim- 
tains, and thought it might be one of these, who had made a 
sudden irruption from his den. All agreed that no mere ordi- 
nary mortal could have wrought such wonders, or unhorsed 
such accomplished and stalwart Cliristian warriors. 

The owl flew forth at night, and hovered about the dusky 
city, perching on the roofs and chimneys. He then wheeled 
his flight up to the royal palace, which stood on the rocky 
summit of Toledo, and went prowling about its terraces and 
battlements, eaves-dropping at every cranny, and glaring in 
with his big goggling eyes at every window where there was a 
light, so as to throw two or three maids of honour into fits. It 
was not until the gray dawn began to peer above the moun- 
tains that he returned from his mousing expedition, and re- 
lated to the prince what he had seen. 

" As I was prying about one of the loftiest towers of the pal- 
ace," said he, " I beheld through a casement a beautiful prin- 
cess. She was reclining on a couch, with attendants and phy- 
sicians around her, bub she would none of their ministry and 
relief. When they retired, I beheld her draw forth a letter 
from her bosom, and read, and kiss it, and give way to loud 
lamentations ; at which, philosopher as I am, I could not but 
be greatly moved." 

The tender heart of Ahmed was distressed at these tidings. 
" Too true were thy words, oh sage Ebon Bonabbon!" cried he. 
' ' Care and sorrow, and sleepless nights are the lot of lovers. 
Allah preserve the princess from the blighting influence of this 
tiling called, love." 

Further intelligence from Toledo corroborated the report of 
the owl. The city was a prey to uneasiness and alarm. The 
princess was conveyed to the highest tower of the palace, every 
avenue to which was strongly guarded. In the mean time, a 
devouring melancholy had seized upon her, of which no one 
could divine the cause. She refused food, and turned a deaf 



152 2'-^^^^' ALUAMBUA. 

ear to every consolation. The most skilful physicians had es- 
sayed their art in vain ; it was thought some magic spell had 
been practised upon her, and the king made proclamation, de- 
claring that whoever should effect her cure, should receive the 
richest jewel in the royal treasury. 

When the owl, who was dozing in a corner, heard of this 
proclamation, he rolled his large eyes and looked more mys- 
terious than ever. 

"Allah Achbar!" exclaimed he. "Happy the man that 
shall effect that cure, should he but know what to choose from 
the royal treasury." 

"What mean you, most reverend owl?" said Ahmed. 
" Hearken, prince, to what I shall relate. We owls, you 
must know, are a learned body, and much given to dark and 
dusty research. During my late prowhng at night about the 
domes and turrets of Toledo, I discovered a college of antiqua- 
rian owls, who hold their meetings in a great vaulted tower 
where the royal treasure is deposited. Here they were discuss- 
ing the forms and inscriptions, and designs of ancient gems and 
jewels, and of golden and silver vessels, heaped up in the trea- 
sury, the fashion of every country and age : but mostly they 
were interested about certain reliques and talismans, that have 
remained in the treasury since the time of Eoderick the Goth. 
Among these, was a box of shittim wood, secured by bands of 
steel of oriental workmanship, and inscribed with mystic 
characters known only to the learned few. This box and its 
inscription had occupied the college for several sessions, and 
had caused much long and grave dispute. At the time of my 
visit, a very ancient owl, who had recently arrived from Egypt, 
was seated on the lid of the box lecturing upon the inscription, 
and proved from it, that the coffer contained the silken carpet 
of the throne of Solomon the wise : which doubtless had been 
brought to Toledo by the Jews, who took refuge there after the 
downfall of Jerusalem." 

When the owl had concluded his antiquarian harangue, the 
prince remained for a time absorbed in thought. "I have 
heard," said he, "from the sage Ebon Bonabbon, of the won- 
derful properties of that talisman, which disappeared at the 
fall of Jerusalem, and was supposed to be lost to mankind. 
Doubtless it remains a sealed mystery to the Christians of 
Toledo. If I can get possession of that carpet, my fortune is 
secure." 
The next day the prince laid aside Ms rich attire, and ar- 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 153 

rayed himself in the simple garb of an Arab of the desert. He 
iyed his complexion to a tawny hue, and no one could have 
recognized in him the splendid warrior who had caused such 
admiration and dismay at the tournament. With staff in 
hand and scrip by his side, and a small pastoral reed, he re- 
paired to Toledo, and presenting himself at the gate of the 
royal palace, announced himself as a candidate for the reward 
offered for the cure of the princess. The guards would have 
driven him away with blows : ' ' What can a vagrant Arab like 
thyself pretend to do," said they, "in a case where the most 
learned of the land have faded?" The king, however, over- 
heard the tumult, and ordered the Arab to be brought into his 
presence. 

''Most potent king," said Ahmed, "you behold before you a 
Bedouin Arab, the greater part of whose hfe has been passed 
in the solitudes of the desert. Those solitudes, it is well 
known, are the haunts of demons and evU spirits, who beset 
us poor shepherds in our lonely watchings, enter into and pos- 
sess our flocks and herds, and sometimes render even the 
patient camel furious. Against these, our countercharm is 
music ; and we have legendary airs handed down from genera- 
tion to generation, that we chant and pipe to cast forth these 
evn spirits. I am of a gifted line, and possess this power in its 
fullest force. If it be any evil influence of the kind that holds 
a spell over thy daughter, I pledge my head to free her from 
its sway." 

The king, who was a man of understanding, and knew the 
wonderful secrets possessed by the Arabs, was inspired with 
hope by the confident language of the prince. He conducted 
him immediately to the lofty tower secured by several doors, 
in the summit of which was the chamber of the princess. The 
windows opened upon a terrace with balustrades, commanding 
a view over Toledo and all the surrounding country. The win- 
dows were darkened, for the princess lay within, a prey to a 
devouring grief that refused all alleviation. 

The prince seated himself on the terrace, and performed sev- 
eral wild Arabian airs on his pastoral pipe, which he had learnt 
from his attendants in the Generaliffe at Granada. The prin- 
cess continued insensible, and the doctors, who were present, 
shook their heads, and smiled with incredibility and contempt. 
At length the prince laid aside the reed, and to a simple melody 
chanted the amatory verses of the letter which had declared 
his passion. 



154 ^'^^^' ALUAMBRA. 

The princess recognized the strain. A fluttering joy stole to 
her heart ; she raised her head and hstened ; tears rushed to 
her eyes and streamed down her cheeks ; her bosom rose and 
fell with a tumult of emotions. She would have asked for the 
minstrel to be brought into her presence, but maiden coyness 
held her silent. The king read her wishes, and at his com- 
mand Ahmed was conducted into the chamber. The lovers 
were discreet : they but exchanged glances, yet those glances 
spoke volumes. Never was triumph of music more complete. 
The rose had returned to the soft cheek of the princess, the 
freshness to her lip, and the dewy light to her languisliing eye. 

All the physicians present stared at each other with aston- 
ishment. The king regarded the Arab minstrel with admira- 
tion, mixt with awe. "Wonderful youth," exclaimed he, 
"thou Shalt henceforth be the first physician of my court, 
and no other prescription will I take but thy melody. For the 
present, receive thy reward, the most precious jewel in my 
treasury." 

"O king," replied Ahmed, " I care not for silver, or gold, or 
precious stones. One relique hast thou in thy treasury, handed 
down from the Moslems who once owned Toledo. A box of 
sandal wood containing a silken carpet. Give me that box, 
and I am content." 

All present were surprised at the moderation of the Arab ; 
and still more, when the box of sandal wood was brought and 
the carpet drawn forth. It was of fine green silk, covered 
with Hebrew and Chaldaic characters. The court physicians 
looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and smiled at 
the simplicity of this new practitioner, who could be content 
with so paltry a fee. 

"This carpet," said the prince, " once covered the throne of 
Solomon the wise ; it is worthy of being placed beneath the feet 
of beauty." 

So saying, he spread it on the terrace beneath an ottoman 
that had been brought forth for the princess; then seating 
himself at her feet, — 

"Who," said he, "shall coimteract what is written in the 
book of fate? Behold the prediction of the astrologers verified. 
Know, oh king, that your daughter and I have long loved each 
other in secret. Behold in me the pilgrim of love." 

These words were scarcely from his lips, when the carpet 
rose in the air, bearing off the prince and princess. The king 
and the physicians gazed after it with open mouths and strain- 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AH3IED AL KAMEL. ]55 

ing eyes, until it became a little speck on the white bosom of a 
cloud, and then disappeared in the bhie vault of heaven. 

The king in a rage summoned his treasurer. " How is this," 
said he, ' ' that thou hast suffered an infidel to get possession of 
such a talisman?" 

"Alas! sire, we knew not its nature, nor could we decipher 
the inscription of the box. If it be indeed the carpet of the 
throne of the wise Solomon, it is possessed of magic power, 
and can transport its owner from place to place through the 
air." 

The king assembled a mighty army, and set off for Granada 
in pursuit of the fugitives. His march was long and toilsome. 
Encamping in the Vega, he sent a herald to demand restitu- 
tion of liis daughter. The king himself came forth with all 
his court to meet him. In the king, he beheld the Arab min 
strel, for Ahmed had succeeded to the throne on the death of 
his father, and the beautiful Aldegonda was his Sultana. 

The Christian king was easily pacified, w^hen he found that 
his daughter was suffered to continue in her faith : not that he 
was particularly pious ; but religion is always a point of pride 
and etiquette with princes. Instead of bloody battles, there 
was a succession of feasts and rejoicings ; after which, the king 
returned well pleased to Toledo, and the youthful couple con- 
tinued to reign as happily as wisely, m the Alhambra. 

It is proper to add, that the owl and the parrot had severally 
followed the prince by easy stages to Granada: the former 
travelling by night, and stopping at the various hereditary 
possessions of his family ; the latter figuring in the gay cu'cles 
of every town and city on his route. 

Ahmed gratefully requited the services which they had ren- 
dered him on his pilgrimage. He appointed the owl Ms prune 
minister ; the parrot his master of ceremonies. It is needless 
to say that never was a realm more sagely administered, or a 
court conducted with more exact punctilio. 



156 THE ALHAMBRA, , 



THE LEGEND OF THE EOSE OF THE ALHAMBEA; 

OR, 

THE PAGE AND THE GER-FALCON. 

For some time after the surrender of Granada by the Moors, 
that dehghtful city was a Irequent and favourite residence of 
the Spanish sovereigns, until they were frightened away by 
successive shocks of earthquakes, which toppled down various 
houses and made the old Moslem towers rock to their founda- 
tion. 

Many, many years then rolled away, during which Granada 
was rarely honoured by a royal gTiest. The palaces of the 
nobility remained silent and shut up ; and the Alhambra, Uke 
a slighted beauty, sat in mournful desolation among her 
neglected gardens. The tower of the Infantas, once the resi- 
dence of the three beautiful Moorish princesses, partook of the 
general desolation ; and the spider spun her web athwart the 
gilded vault, and bats and owls nestled in those chambers that 
had been graced by the presence of Zayda, Zorayda, and Zora- 
hayda. The neglect of the tower may partly have been owing 
to some superstitious notions of the neighbours. It wa^ 
rumoured that the spirit of the youthful Zorahayda, who had 
perished in that tower, was often seen by moonlight, seated 
beside the fountain in the hall, or moaning about the battle- 
ments, and that the notes of her silver lute would be heard at 
midnight by wayfarers passing along the glen. 

At length the city of Granada was once more enlivened by 
the royal presence. All the world knows that Philip V. was 
the first Bourbon that swayed the Spanish sceptre. All the 
world knows that he m.arried, in second nuptials, Elizabetta or 
Isabella, (for they are the same,) the beautiful princess of Par= 
ma ; and all the world knows, that by this chain of contingen- 
cies, a French prince and an Italian princess were seated to- 
gether on the Spanish throne. For the reception of this illustri- 
ous pair, the Alhambra was repaired and fitted up with aB pos- 
sible expedition. The arrival of the court changed the whole 
aspect of the lately deserted place. The clangour of drum and 
trumpet, the tramp of steed about the avenues and outer 

\ 



THE LEGEND OF THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA. IS*; 

court, the glitter of anus and display of banners about barbi- 
can and battlement, recalled the ancient and warlike glories of 
the fortress. A softer spiiit, however, reigned within the royal 
palace. There was the rustling of robes, and the cautious 
tread and murmuring voice of reverential courtiers about the 
antechambers; a loitering of pages and maids of honour about 
the gardens, and the sound of music stealing from open case- 
n?.ents. 

Among those who attended in the train of the monarchs, was 
a favourite page of the queen, named Ruyz de Ala.rcon. To 
say that he w^as a favourite page of the queen, was at once to 
speak his eulogium, for every one in the suite of the stately 
Elizabetta was chosen for grace, and beauty, and accomplish- 
ments. He was just turned of eighteen, hgiit and little ot 
form, and graceful as a young Antinous. To the queen he was 
all deference and respect, yet he was at heart a roguish strip- 
ling, petted and spoiled by the ladies about the court, and 
experienced in the ways of women lar beyond his years. 

This loitering page was one morning i^mbling about the 
groves of the Generahfie, which overlook the grounds of the 
Alhambra. He had taken with him for his amusement, a 
favourite ger-f alcon of the queen. In the cou«rse of his rambles, 
seeing a bird rising from a thicket, he imhooded. the hawk and 
let him fly. The falcon towered high in the air, made a swoop 
at his quarry, but missing it, soared away regardless of the calls 
of the page. The latter followed the truant bird with liis eye 
in its capricious flight, until he saw it alight upon the battle- 
ments of a remote and lonely tower, in the outer wall of the 
Alhambra, built on the edge of a i^vine that separated the 
royal fortress from the grounds of the Generaiiffe. It was, in 
fact, the ' ' tower oi the Princesses. " 

The page descended into the ravine, and approached the 
tower, but it had no entrance from the glen, and its lofty height 
rendered any attempt to scale it fruitless. Seeking one of the 
gates of the fortress, therefore, he made a wide circuit to that 
side of the tower facing within the wails. A small garden en- 
closed by a trellis-work of reeds overhung with myrtle lay before 
the tower. Opening a wicket, the page passed between beds of 
flowers and thickets of roses to the door. It was closed and 
bolted. A crevice in the door gave him a peep into the interior. 
There was a small Moorish hall with fretted waUs, light mar- 
ble columns, and an alabaster fountain surrounded with flow- 
ers. In the centre hung a gilt cage containing a singing bird ° 



358 THE ALHAMBRA. 

beneath it, on a chair, lay a tortoise-shell cat among reels of 
silk and other articles of female labour, and a guitar, decorated 
with ribands, leaned against the fountain. 

Ruyz de Alarcon was struck with these traces of female 
taste and elegance in a lonely, and, as he had supposed, 
deserted tower. They reminded him of the tales of enchanted 
lialls, current in the Alhambra; and the tortoise-shell cat 
:aaight be some spell-bound princess. 

He knocked gently at the door, — a beautiful face peeped out 
from a httle window above, but was instantly withdrawn. He 
waited, expecting that the door would be opened; but he 
waited in vain : no footstep was to be heard within, all was 
silent. Had his senses deceived hun, or was this beautiful ap- 
parition the fairy of the tower? He knocked again, and more 
loudly. After a little while, the beaming face once more 
peeped forth : it was that of a blooming damsel of fifteen. 

The page immediately doffed his plumed bonnet, and 
entreated in the most courteous accents to be permitted to 
ascend the tower in pursuit of his falcon. 

" I dare not open the door, Senor," replied the little damsel, 
bhishing; " my aunt has forbidden it." 

*'Ido beseech you, fair maid; it is the favourite falcon of 
the queen ; I dare not return to the palace without it." 

"Are you, then, one of the cavaliers of the court?" 

'* I am, fair maid ; but I shall lose the queen's favour and my 
place if I lose this hawk." 

"Santa Maria! It is against you cavaliers of the court that 
my aunt has charged me especially to bar the door. " 

"Against wicked cavaliers, doubtless; but I am none of 
those, but a simple, harmless page, who will be ruined and 
undone if you deny me this sm.all request." 

The heart of the little damsel was touched by the distress of 
the page. It was a thousand pities he should be ruined for the 
want of so trifling a boon. Surely, too, he could not be one of 
those dangerous beings whom her aunt had described as a spe- 
cies of cannibal, ever on the prowl to make prey of thought- 
less damsels ; he was gentle and modest, and stood so entreat- 
ingly with cap in hand, and looked so charming. The sly page 
saw that the garrison began to waver, and redoubled his 
entreaties in such moving terms, that it was not in the nature 
of mortal maiden to deny him ; so, the blushing little warder 
of the tower descended and opened the door with a trembling 
hand ; and if the page had been charmed by a mere glimpse of 



THE LEGEND OF THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 159 

her countenance from the window, he was ravished by the 
full-length portrait now revealed to him. 

Her Andalusian bodice and trim basquina set off the roimd 
but dehcate symmetry of her form, wliich was as yet scarce 
verging into womanhood. Her glossy hair was parted on her 
forehead with scrupulous exactness, and decorated with a 
fresh plucked rose, according to the universal custom of the 
country. 

It is true, her complexion was tinged by the ardour of a 
southern sun, but it served to give richness to the mantling 
bloom of her cheek, and to heighten the lustre of her melting 
eyes. 

Ruyz de Alarcon beheld all this with a single glance, for it 
became hun not to tarry ; he merely murmured liis acknow- 
ledgments, and then bounded lightly uj) the spiral staircase in 
quest of his falcon. He soon returned with the truant bird 
upon his fist. The damsel, in the mean time, had seated her- 
self by the fountain in the hall, and was winding silk ; but in 
her agitation she let fall the reel upon the pavement. The 
page sprang, picked it up, then dropping gracefully on one 
knee, presented it to her, but, seizing the hand extended to 
receive it, imprinted on it a kiss more fervent and devout 
than he had ever imprinted on the fair hand of his sovereign. 

"Ave Maria! Sefior!" exclaimed the damsel, blushing still 
deeper with confusion and surprise, for never before had she 
receive such a salutation. 

The modest page made a thousand apologies, assuring her it 
was the way, at court, of expressing the most profound hom- 
age and respect. 

Her anger, if anger she. felt, was easily pacified; but her 
agitation and embarrassment continued, and she sat blushing 
deeper and deeper, with her eyes cast down upon her work, 
entangling the silk which she attempted to wind. 

The cunning page saw the confusion in the opposite camp, 
and would fain have profited by it, but the fine speeches he 
would have uttered died upon his lips ; his attempts at gal- 
lantry were awkward and ineffectual ; and, to his surprise, the 
adroit page who had figured with such grace and effrontery 
among the most knowing and experienced ladies of the court, 
found himself awed and abashed in the presence of a simple 
damsel of fifteen. 

In fa.ct, the artless maiden, in her own modesty and inno- 
cence, had guardians more effectual than the bolts and bars 



J GO THE ALHAMBRA. 

prescribed by her vigilant aunt. Still, where is the female 
bosom i^roof against the first Avliisperings of love? The little 
damsel, with all her artlessness, instinctively comprehended all 
that the faltering tongue of the page failed to express, and her 
heart was fluttered at beholding, for the first time, a lover at 
her feet— and such a lover I 

The diffidence of the page, though genuine, was short-lived, 
and he was recovering his usual ease and confidence, when a 
shrill voice was heard at a distance. 

"My aunt is returning from mass!" cried the damsel in 
affright. "I pray you, Seilor, depart." 

" Not until you grant me that rose from your hair as a re- 
membrance. " 

She hastily untwisted the rose from her raven locks. " Take 
it," cried she, agitated and blushing, "but pray begone." 

The page took the rose, and at the same tune covered with 
kisses the fair hand that gave it. Then placing the flower in 
his bonnet, and taking the falcon upon his fist, he bounded off 
through the garden, bearing away with him the heart of the 
gentle Jacinta. 

When the vigilant aunt arrived at the tower, she remarked 
the agitation of her niece, and an air of confusion in the hall ; 
but a word of explanation sufficed. "A ger-falcon had pur- 
sued his prey into the hall." 

" Mercy on us! To think of a falcon flying into the tower. 
Did ever one hear of so saucy a hawk? Why, the very bird in 
the cage is not safe." 

The vigilant Fredegonda was one of the most wary of 
ancient spinsters. She had a becoming terror and distrust of 
what she denominated "the opposite sex," wliicli had gradu- 
ally increased through a long life of celibacy. Not that the 
good lady had ever suffered from their wiles ; nature having 
set up a safeguard in her face, that forbade all trespass upon 
her premises; but ladies who have least cause to fear for them 
selves, are most ready to keep a watch over their more tempt 
ing neighbours. The niece was the orphan of an officer who 
had fallen in the wars. She had been educated in a convent, 
and had recently been transferred from her sacred asylum to 
the umnediate guardianship of her aunt; under whose over- 
shadowing care she vegetated in obscurity, like an opening 
rose bloominjr beneath a briar. Nor, indeed, is this comparison 
entirely accidental, for to tell the truth her fresh and dawning 
beauty had caught the public eye, even in her seclusion, and. 



THE LEGEND OF THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBBA. 161 

with that poetical turn common to the people of Andalusia, 
the peasantry of the neighbourhood had given her the appella- 
tion of " The Eose of the Alhambra." 

The wary aunt continued to keep a faithful watch over her 
tempting little niece as long as the court continued at G-ranada, 
and flattered herseK that her vigilance had been successful. It 
is true, the good lady was now and then discomposed by the 
tinkling of guitars, and chanting of love ditties from the moon- 
lit groves beneath the tower, but she would exhort her niece 
to shut her ears agamst such idle minstrelsy, assuring her 
that it was one of the arts of the opposite sex, by which simple 
maids were often lured to their undoing ; — alas, what chance 
with a simple maid has a dry lecture against a moonlight 
serenade ! 

At length king Philip cut short his sojourn at Granada, and 
suddenly departed with all his train. The ^agilant Fredegonda 
watched the royal pageant as it issued forth from the gate of 
Justice, and descended the great avenue leading to the city. 
When the last banner disappeared from her sight, she re- 
turned exulting to her tower, for all her cares were over. To 
her surprise, a light Arabian steed pawed the ground at the 
wicket gate of the garden— to her horror she saw through the 
thickets of roses, a youth, in gaily embroidered dress, at the 
feet of her niece. At the sound of her footsteps he gave a 
tender adieu, bounded lightly over the barrier of reeds and 
myrtles, sprang upon his horse, and was out of sight in an in- 
stant. 

The tender Jacinta in the agony of her grief lost all thought 
of her aunt's displeasure. Throwing herself into her arms, she 
broke forth into sobs and tears. 

"Ay di mi!" cried she, "he is gone! he is gone! and I shall 
never see him more." 

"Gone! who is gone? what youth is this I saw at your feet?" 

"A queen's page, aunt, who came to bid me farewell." 

"A queen's page, child," echoed the vigilant Fredegonda 
faintly, ' ' and when did you become acquainted with a queen's 



' ' The morning that the ger-f alcon flew into the tower. It 
was the queen's ger-f alcon, and he came in pursuit of it." 

"Ah, siUy, silly girl! know that there are no ger-falcons 
half so dangerous as these prankling pages, and it is precisely 
such simple birds as thee that they pounce upon." 

The aunt was at first indignant at learning that, in despite 



162 THE ALHAMBRA. 

of her boasted vigilance, a tender intercourse had been carried 
on by the youthful lovers, almost beneath her eye ; but when 
she found that her simple-hearted niece, though thus exposed, 
without the protection of bolt or bar, to all the machinations 
of the opposite sex, had come forth unsinged from the fiery 
ordeal, she consoled herself with the persuasion that it was 
owing to the chaste and cautious maxims in which she had, as 
it were, steeped her to the very lips. 

While the aunt laid this soothing unction to her pride, the 
niece treasured up the oft-repeated vows of fidelity of the page. 
But what is the love of restless, roving man? a vagrant stream 
that dallies for a time with each flower upon its banks, then 
passes on and leaves them all in tears. 

Days, weeks, months elapsed, and nothing more was heard 
of the page. The pomegranate ripened, the vine yielded up its 
fruit, the autumnal rains descended in torrents from the 
mountains ; the Sierra Nevada became covered with a snowy 
mantle, and wintry blasts howled through the halls of the Al- 
hambra : still he came not. The winter passed away. Again 
the genial spring burst forth with song, and blossoms, and 
balmy zephyr; the snows melted from the mountains, until 
none remained, but on the lofty summit of the Nevada, glisten- 
ing through the sultry summer air: still nothing was heard of 
the forgetful page. 

In the mean tune, the poor little Jacinta grew pale and 
thoughtful. Her former occupations and amusements were 
abandoned; her silk lay entangled, her guitar unstrung, her 
flowers were neglected, the notes of her bird unheeded, and 
her eyes, once so bright, were dimmed with secret weeping. 
If any solitude could be devised to foster the passion of a love- 
lorn damsel, it woiild be such a place as the Alhambra, where 
every thing seems disposed to produce tender and romantic 
reveries. It is a very Paradise for lovers ; how hard then to be 
alone in such a Paradise; and not merely alone, but for- 
saken. 

" Alas, silly child!" would the staid and immaculate Frede- 
gonda say, when she found her niece in one of her desponding 
moods, "did I not warn thee against the wdles and deceptions 
of these men? What couldst thou expect, too, from one of a 
haughty and aspiring family, thou, an orphan, the descendant 
of a fallen and impoverished line; be assured, if the youth 
were true, his father, who is one of the proudest nobles about 
the court, would prohibit his union with one so humble and 



THE LEGEND OF THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 163 

portionless as thou. Pluck up thy resolution, therefore, and 
drive these idle notions from thy mind." 

The words of the immaculate Fredegonda only served to in- 
crease the melancholy of her niece, but she sought to indulge 
it in private. At a late hour one midsummer night, after her 
aunt had retired to rest, she remained alone in the hall of the 
tower, seated beside the alabaster fountain. It was here that 
the faithless page had first knelt and kissed her hand, it was 
here that he had often vowed eternal fidelity. The poor little 
damsel's heart was overladen with sad and tender recollections, 
her tears began to flow, and slowly fell, drop by drop, into the 
fountain. By degrees the crystal water became agitated, and, 
bubble— bubble — bubble, boiled up, and was tossed about until 
a female figure, richly clad in Moorish robes, slowly rose to 
view. 

Jacinta was so frightened, that she fled from the hall, and 
did not venture to return. The next morning, she related 
what she had seen to her aunt, but the good lady treated it as 
a fantasy of her troubled mind, or supposed she had fallen 
asleep and dreamt beside the fountain. "Thou hast been 
thinking of the story of the three Moorish princesses that once 
inhabited the tower," continued she, "and it has entered into 
thy dreams. " 

"What story, aunt? I know nothing of it." 

"Thou hast certainly heard of the three princesses, Zayda, 
Zorayda, and Zorahaycla, who were confined in this tower by 
the king their father, and agreed to fly with three Christian 
cavaliers. The first two accomplished their escape, but the 
third failed in resolution and remained, and it is said died in 
this tower." 

" I now recollect to have heard of it," said Jacinta, "and to 
have wept over the fate of the gentle Zorahayda." 

"Thou mayst well weep over her fate," continued the aunt, 
"for the l«ver of Zorahayda was thy ancestor. He long be- 
moaned h.U Moorish love, but time cured him of his grief, and 
he married a Spanish lady, from whom thou art descended. " 

Jacinta ruminated upon these words. "That what I have 
seen is no fantasy of the brain," said she to herself, "I am con- 
fident. If indeed it be the sprite of the gentle Zorahayda, 
which I have heard lingers about this tower, of what should I 
be afraid? I'll watch by the fountain to-night, perhaps the 
visit will be repeated." 

Towards midnight, when every thing was quiet, she again 



IQ4: TUE ALHAMBRA. 

took her seat in the hall. As the bell on the distant watch- 
tower of the Alhambra struck the midnight hour, the fountain 
was again agitated, and bubble — bubble— bubble, it tossed 
about the waters until the Moorish female again rose to view. 
She was young and beautiful ; her dress was rich with jewels, 
and in her hand she heid a silver lute. Jacinta trembled and 
was faint, but was reassured by the soft and plaintive voice 
of the apparition, and the sweet expression of her pale melan- 
choly countenance. 

^'Daughter of MortaUty," said she, " what aileth thee? Why 
do thy tears trouble my fountain, and thy sighs and plaints 
disturb the quiet watches of the night?" 

" I weep because of the faitlilessness of man; and I bemoan 
my solitary and forsaken state." 

"Take comfort, thy sorrows may yet have an end. Thou 
beholdest a Moorish princess, who, like thee, was unhappy in 
her love. A Christian knight, thy ancestor, won my heart, 
and would have borne me to his native land, and to the bosom 
of his church. I was a convert in my heart, but I lacked cour- 
age equal to my faith, and lingered till too late. For this, the 
evil genii are permitted to have power over me, and I remain 
enchanted in this tower, until some pure Christian will deign 
to break the magic spell. Wilt thou undertake the task?" 
" I will!" replied the damsel, trembling. 
" Come hither, then, and fear not: dip thy hand in the foun- 
tain, sprinkle the water over me, and baptize me after the 
manner of thy faith ; so shall the enchantment be dispelled, 
and my troubled spirit have repose." 

The damsel advanced with faltering steps, dipped her hand 
in the fountain, collected water in the palm, and sprinkled it 
over the ixile face of the phantom. 

The latter smiled with ineffable benignity. She dropped her 
silver lute at the feet of Jacinta, crossed her white arms upon 
her bosom, and melted from sight, so that it seemed merely as 
if a shower of dewdrops had fallen into the fountain. 

Jacinta retired from the hall, fiUed with awe and wonder. 
She scarcely closed her eyes that night, but when she awoke 
at daybreak out of a troubled slumber, the whole appeared to 
her like a distempered dream. On descending into the hall, 
however, the truth of the vision was established ; for, beside 
the fountain she beheld the silver lute glittering in the morn- 
ing simshine. 

She hastened to her aunt, related all that had befallen her. 



TEE LEGEND OF TEE ROSE OF TEE ALEAMBRA. 165 

and called her to behold the lute as a testunonial of the reahty 
of her story. If the good lady had any lingering doubts, they 
were removed when Jacinta touched the instrument, for she 
drew forth such ravishing tones as to thaw even the frigid 
bosom of the immaculate Fredegonda, that region of eternal 
winter, into a genial flow. Nothing but supernatural melody 
could have produced such an effect. 

The extraordinary power of the lute became every day more 
and more apparent. The wayfarer passing by the tower was 
detained, and, as it were, spell-bound, in breathless ecstasy. 
The very birds gathered in the neighbouring trees, and, hush- 
ing their own strains, listened in charmed silence. Eumour 
soon spread the news abroad. The inhabitants of Granada 
thronged to the Alhambra, to catch a few notes of the 
transcendent music that floated about the tower of Las In- 
fantas. 

The lovely little minstrel was at length drawn forth from 
her retreat. The rich and pov/erful of the land contended who 
should entertain and do honour to her; or rather, who should 
secure the charms of her lute, to draw fashionable throngs to 
their saloons. Wherever she went, her vigilant aunt kept a 
dragon- watch at her elbow, awing the throngs of impassioned 
admirers who hung in raptures on her strains. The report 
of her wonderftfl powers spread from city to city: Malaga, 
Seville, Cordova, all became successively mad on the theme; 
noching was talked of throughout Andalusia, but the beauti- 
ful minstrel of the Alhambra. How could it be otherwise 
among a people so musical and gallant as the Andalusians, 
when the lute was magical in its powers, and the minstrel 
inspired by love. 

While all Andalusia was thus music-mad, a different mood 
prevailed at the court of Spain. Philij) V. , as is well known, 
was a miserable hypochondriac, and subject to all kinds of 
fancies. Sometimes he would keep to his bed for weeks 
together, groaning under imaginary complaints. At other 
times he would insist upon abdicating his throne, to the 
great annoyance of his royal spouse, who had a strong relish 
for » the splendours of a court and the glories of a crown, and 
guided the sceptre of her imbecile lord T7ith an expert and 
steady hand. 

Nothing was found to be so efficacious in dispelling the 
royal megrims as the- powers of* music; the queen took 
care, therefore, to have the best performers, both vocal and 



1(36 THE ALEAMBBA. 

instrumental, at hand, and retained the famous Italian singei 
Farinelli about the court as a kind of royal physician. 

At the moment we treat of, however, a freak had come over 
the mind of this sapient and illustrious Bourbon, that sur- 
passed all former vagaries. After a long spell of imaginary 
illness, which set all the strains of Farinelli, and the consul- 
tations of a whole orchestra of court fiddlers, at defiance, the 
monarch fairly, in idea, gave up the ghost, and considered 
himself absolutely dead. 

This would have been harmless enough, and even convenient 
both to his queen and courtiers, had he been content to remain 
in the quietude befitting a dead man ; but, to their annoyance, 
he insisted upon having the funeral ceremonies performed 
over him, and, to their inexpressible perplexity, began to 
grow impatient, and to revile bitterly at them for negh- 
gence and disrespect in leaving him unburied. What was to 
be done? To disobey the king's positive commands was 
monstrous in the eyes of the obsequious courtiers of a punc- 
tilious court,— but to obey him, and bury liim alive, would be 
downright regicide I 

In the midst of this fearful dilemma, a rumour reached the 
court of the female minstrel, who was turning the brains of all 
Andalusia. The queen despatched missives in aU haste, to 
summon her to St. Ildefonso, where the court at that time 
resided. 

Within a few days, as the queen with her maids of honour 
was walking in those stately gardens, intended, with their 
avenues, and terraces, and fountains, to eclipse the glories of 
Versailles, the far-famed minstrel was conducted into her 
presence. The imperial Elizabetta gazed with surprise at the 
youthful and unp^-etending appearance of the little being that 
had set the world madding. She was in her picturesque 
Andalusian dress; her silver lute was in her hand, and she 
stood with modest and downcast eyes, but with a simplicity 
and freshness of beauty that still bespoke her "The Rose of 
the Alhambra." 

As usual, she was accompanied by the ever vigilant Frede- 
gonda, who gave the whole history of her parentage ♦ and 
descent to the incftiiring queen. If the stately Ehzabetta 
had been interested by the appearance of Jacinta, she was 
still more pleased when she learnt that she was of a meri- 
torious, though impoverished line, and that her father had 
bravely fallen in the service of the crown. "If thj ^iowei*» 



THE LEGEND OF THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 167 

equal their renown," said she, "and thou canst cast forth this 
evil spirit that possesses thy sovereign, thy fortune shall 
henceforth be my care, and honours and wealth attend thee." 

Impatient to make trial of her skill, she led the way at once 
to the apartment of the moody monarch. Jacinta followed 
with downcast eyes through files of guards and ci'owds of 
courtiers. They arrived at length at a great chamber hung in 
black. The windows were closed, to exclude the light of day; 
a number of yellow wax tapers, in silver sconces, diffused a 
lugubrious hght, and dimly revealed the figures of mutes in 
mourning dresses, and courtiers, who glided about with noise- 
less step and woe-begone visage. On the midst of a funeral 
bed or bier, his hands folded on his breast, and the tip of his 
nose just visible, lay extended this would-be-buried monarch. 

The queen enterea the chamber in silence, and, pointing to a 
footstool in an obscure corner, beckoned to Jacinta to sit down 
and commence. 

At first she touched her lute with a faltering hand, but 
gathering confidence and animation as she proceeded, drew 
forth such soft, aerial harmony, that all present could scarce 
believe it mortal. As to the monarch, who had already con- 
sidered himself in the world of spirits, he set it down for some 
angelic melody, or the music of the spheres. By degrees the 
theme v/as varied, and the voice of the minstrel accompanied 
the instrument. She poured forth one of the legendary bal- 
lads treating of the ancient glories of the Alhambra, and the 
achievements of the Moors. Her whole soul entered into the 
theme, for with the recollections of the Albambra was associ- 
ated the story of her love ; the funereal chamber resounded 
with the animating strain. It entered into the gloomy heart 
of the monarch. He raised his head and gazed around ; he sat 
up on his couch ; his eye began to kindle ; at length, leapin^^ 
upon the .floor, he called for sword and buckler. 

The triumph of music, or rather of the enchanted lute, wa^? 
complete; the demon of melancholy was cast forth; and, as it 
"were, a dead man brought to life. The windows of the apart,- 
ment were thrown open; the glorious effulgence of Spanish 
sunshine burst into the late lugubrious chamber; all eyee 
sought the lovely enchantress, but the lute had faUen from he** 
hand ; she had sunk upon the earth, and the next moment wa.s 
clasped to the boaom of Ruyz de Alarcon. 

The nuptials of the happy couple were shortly after celebrated 
with great splendour,— but hold, I hear the reader ask how did 



IQQ THE ALHAMBRA. 

Ruyz de Alarcon account for his long neglect? Oh,— that was 
all owing to the opposition of a proud pragmatical old father,— 
besides, young people, who really like one another, soon come 
to an amicable understanding, and bury all past grievances 
whenever they meet. 

But how was the proud pragmatical old father reconciled to 
the match? 

Oh, his scruples were easily overruled by a word or two from 
the queen,— especially as dignities and rewards were showered 
upon the blooming favourite of royalty. Besides, the lute of 
Jacinta, you know, possessed a magic power, and could con- 
trol the most stubborn head and hardest heart. 

And what became of the enchanted lute? 

Oh, that is the most curious matter of all, and plainly proves 
the truth of all the story. That lute remained for some time 
in the family, but was purloined and carried off, as was sup- 
posed, by the great singer Farinelli, in pure jealousy. At his 
death it passed into other hands in Italy, who were ignorant of 
its mystic powers, and melting down the silver, transferred the 
strings to an old Cremona fiddle. The strings still retain some- 
thing of their magic virtues. A word in the reader's ear, but 
let it go no further, — that fiddle is now bewitching the whole 
world, — it is the fiddle of Paganini! 



THE VETERAN. 



Among the curious acquaintances I have made in my rambles 
about the fortress, is a brave and battered old Colonel of In- 
valids, who is nestled like a hawk in one of the Moorish towers. 
His history, which he is fond of telling, is a tissue of those 
adventures, mishaps, and vicissitudes that render the life of 
almost every Spaniard of note as varied and whimsical as the 
pages of Gil Bias. 

He was in America at twelve years of age, and reckons 
among the most signal and fortunate events of his life, his hav- 
ing seen General Washington. Since then he has taken a part 
in all the wars of his country ; he can speak expermientally of 
most of the prisons and dungeons of the Peninsula, has been 
lamed of one leg, crippled in his hand, and so cut up and car- 
bonadoed, that he is a kind of walking monument of the 
troubles of Spain, on which there is a scar for every battle and 



THE VETERAN. Ig9 

broi]^ as eve^-y year was notched upon the tree of Eobinson 
Crusoe. The greatest misfortune of the brave old cavaher, 
however, appears to have been his having commanded at 
Malaga during a time of peril and confusion, and been made a 
general by the inhabitants to protect them from the invasion 
of the French. 

This has entailed upon him a number of just claims upon 
government that I fear wiU employ him until his dying day in 
writing and printing petitions and memorials, to the great dis- 
quiet of his mind, exhaustion of his purse, and penance of his 
friends ; not one of whom can visit him without having to hsten 
to a mortal document of half an hour m length, and to carry 
away half a dozen pamphlets in his pocket. This, however, 
is the case throughout Spain : every where you meet with some 
worthy wight brooding in a corner, and nursing up some pet 
grievance and cherished wrong. Beside, a Spaniard vfho has 
a lawsuit, or a claim upon government, may bo considered as 
furnished with employment for the remainder of his life. 

I visited the veteran in his quarters in the upper part of the 
Terre del Vino, or Wine Tower. His room was small but snug, - 
and commanded a beautiful view of the Vega. It was arranged 
with a soldier's precision. Three muskets and a brace of pistols, 
all bright and shining, were suspended against the wall, with a 
sabre and a cane hangin.a: side by side, and above these two 
cocked hats, one for parade, and one for ordinary use. A small 
shelf, containing some half dozen books, formed his library, 
one of which, a httle old mouldy volume of philosophical 
maxims, was his favourite reading. This he thumbed and 
pondered over day by day ; applying every maxim to his own 
particidar case, provided it had a little tinge of wholesome bit- 
terness, and treated of the injustice of the world. 

Yet he is social and kind-hearted, and, provided he can be 
diverted from his wrongs and his philosophy, is an entertain- 
ing companion. I like these old weather-beaten sons of fortune, 
and enjoy their rough campaigning anecdotes. In the course 
of my visit to the one in question, I learnt some curious facts 
about an old militarj^ commander of the fortress, who seems to 
have resembled him in some respects, and to have had similar 
fortunes in the Avars. These particulars have been augmented 
by inquiries among some of the old inhabitants of the place, 
particularly the father of Mateo Ximenes, of whose traditional 
stories the worthy I am about to introduce to the reader is a 
favourite hero. 



J70 ^"^-^' ALHAMBRA. 



THE aOVERNOR AND THE NOTAEY. 

In former times there ruled, as governor of the Alhambra, a 
doughty old cavalier, who, from having lost one arm in the 
wars, was comraonly known by the name of El Gobernador 
IVIanco, or the one-armed governor. He in fact prided himself 
Upon being an old soldier, wore his mustachios curled up to his 
eyes, a pair of campaigning boots, and a toledo as long as a spit, 
with his pocket handkerchief in the basket-hilt. 

He was, moreover, exceedingly proud and punctilious, and 
tenacious of all his privileges and dignities. Undef his sway, 
the immunities of the Alhambra, as a royal residence and do- 
main, were rigidly exacted. No one was permitted to enter 
the fortress with fire-arms, or even with a sword or staff, unless 
he were of a certain rank, and every horseman was obliged to 
dismount at the gate and lead his horse by the bridle. Now, 
as the hill of the Alhambra rises from the very midst of the 
city of Granada, being, as it were, an excrescence of the capi- 
tal, it must at all times be somewhat irksome to the captain- 
general who commands the province, to have thus an impcrium 
in imperio, a petty independent post, in the very core of his 
domains. It was, rendered the more galling in the present 
instance, from the irritable jealousy of the old governor, that 
took fire on the least question of authority and jurisdiction, 
and from the loose vagrant character of the people that had 
gradually nestled themselves within the fortress as in a sanctu- 
ary, and from thence carried on a system of roguery and dep- 
redation at the expense of the honest inhabitants of the city. 
Thus there was a perpetual feud and heart-burning between 
the captain-general and the governor; the more virulent on 
the part of the latter, inasmuch as the smallest of two neigh- 
bouring potentates is always the most captious about his dignity. 
The stately palace of the captain-general stood in the Plaza 
Nueva, immediately at the foot of the hill of the Alhambra, 
and here was always a bustle and parade of guards, and domes- 
tics, and city functionaries. A beetling bastion of the fortress 
overlooked the palace and the public square in front of it ; and 
on this bastion the old governor would occasionally strut back- 
wards and forwards, with his toledo girded by his side, keeping 



THE GOVERNOR AND THE NOTARY. 171 

a -wary eye down upon liis rival, like a hawk reconnoitring his 
quarry from his nest in a dry tree. 

Whenever he descended into the city, it was in grand 
parade, on horseback, surrounded by his guards, or in his 
state coach, an ancient and unwieldy Spanish edifice of carved 
timber and gilt leather, drawn by eight mides, with running 
footmen, outriders, and lacqueys, on which occasions he flat- 
tered himself be impressed every beholder with awe and ad= 
miration as vicegerent of the king, though the wits of Gra- 
nada, particularly those who loitered about the palace of the 
captain-general, were apt to sneer at his petty parade, and, in 
allusion to the vagrant character of his subjects, to greet him 
with the appellation of " the King of the beggars." 

One of the most fruitful sources of dispute between these 
two doughty rivals, was the right claimed by the governor 
to have all things passed free of duty through the city, that 
were intended for the use of himself or his garrison. By de- 
grees, this privilege had given rise to extensive smuggling. A 
nest of contrabandistas took up their abode in the hovels of 
the fortress and the numerous caves in its vicinity, and drove 
a tliriving business under the connivance of the soldiers of 
the garrison. 

The vigilance of the captain-general was aroused. He con- 
sulted his legal adviser and factotum, a shrewd, meddlesome 
Escribano or notary, who rejoiced in an opportunity of per- 
plexing the old potentate of the Alhambra, and involving him 
in a maze of legal subtilities. He advised the captain-general 
to insist upon the right of examining every convoy passing 
through the gates of his city, and he penned a long letter for 
him, in vindication of the right. Governor Manco was a 
straight-forward, cut-and-thrust old soldier, who hated an 
Escribano worse than the devil, and this one in particular, 
worse than all other Escribanoes. 

"What!" said he, curling up his mustachios fiercely, " does 
the captain-general set his man of the pen to practise con 
fusions upon me? I'll let him see that an old soldier is not to 
be baffled by Schoolcraft." 

He seized his pen, and scrawled a short letter in a crabbed 
hand, in which, without deigning to enter into argument, he 
insisted on the right of transit free of search, and denounced 
vengeance on any custom-house officer who should lay his un- 
haUowed hand on any convoy protected by the flag of the 
Alhambra. 



172 THE ALHAMBRA. 

While this question was agitated between the two pragmati 
cal potentates, it so happened that a mule laden with supphes 
for the fortress arrived one day at the gate of Xenil, by which 
it was to traverse a suburb of the city on its way to the 
Aihambra. The convoy was headed by a testy old corporal, 
who had long served under the governor, and was a man after 
Ms own heart ; as trusty and staunch as an old toledo blade. 
As they approached the gate of the city, the corporal placed 
the banner of the Aihambra on the pack saddle of the mule, 
and, drawing himself up to a perfect perpendicular, advanced 
with his head dressed to the front, but with the wary side 
glance of a cur passing through hostile grounds, and ready for 
a snap and a snarl. 

"Who goes there?" said tlie sentinel at the gate. 

"Soldier of the Aihambra," said the corporal, without turn- 
ing his head. 

" What have you in charge?" 

V Provisions for the garrison." 

"Proceed." 

The corporal marched straight forward, followed by the 
convoy, but had not advanced many paces, before a posse of 
custom-house officer rushed out of a small toll-house. 

"Hallo there!" cried the leader: "Muleteer, halt and open 
those packages." 

The corporal wheeled round, and drew himself up in battle 
array. "Respect the flag of the Aihambra, " said he ; "these 
things are for the governor." 

" A fig for the governor, and a fig for his flag. Muleteer, 
halt, I say." 

" Stop the convoy at your Jyeril!" cried the corporal, cocking 
his musket. " Muleteer, proceed." 

The muleteer gave his beast a hearty thwack, the custom- 
house officer sprang forward, and seized the halter; where- 
upon the corporal levelled his piece and shot him dead. 

The street was immediately in an uproar. The old corporal 
was seized, and after undergoing sundry kicks and cufts, and 
cudgellings, which are generally given impromptu, by the 
mob in Spain, as a foretaste of the after penalties of the law, 
he was loaded with irons, and conducted to the city prison; 
while his comrades were permitted to proceed with the convoy, 
after it had been well rummaged, to the Aihambra. 

The old governor was in a towering passion, when he heard 
of this insult to his flag and capture of his corporal. For a 



THE GOVERNOR AND TEE NOTARY. I73 

dime he stormed about the Moorish halls, and vapoured about 
the bastions, and looked down fire and sword upon the palace 
of the captain-general. Having vented the first ebullition of 
his wrath, he despatched a message demanding the surrender 
of the corporal, as to him alone belonged the right of sitting 
in judgment on the offences of those under his command. 
The captain-general, aided by the pen of the delighted Escri- 
bano, replied at great length, arguing that as the offence had 
been committed within the walls of his city, and against one 
of his civil officers, it was clearly witliin his proper jurisdic- 
tion. The governor rejoined by a repetition of his demand ; 
the captain general gave a sur-re joinder of still greater length, 
and legal acunaen; the governor became hotter and more per 
emptory in his demands^ and the captain-general cooler and 
more copious in his replies ; until the old hon-hearted soldier 
absolutely roared with fury, at being thus entangled in the 
meshes of legal controversy. 

While the subtle Escribano was thus amusing himself at the 
expense of the governor, he was conducting the trial of the 
corporal ; who, mewed up in a narrow dungeon of the prison, 
had merely a small gloated window at, which to show his iron- 
bound visage, and receive the consolations of his friends; a 
mountain of written testimony was diligently heaped up, ac- 
cording to Spanish form, by the indefatigable Escribano ; the 
corporal w.as completely overwhelmed by it. He was con- 
victed of murder, and sentenced to be hanged. 

It was in vain the governor sent down remonstrance and 
menace from the Alhambra. The fatal day was at hand, and 
the corporal was put in capilla, that is to say, in the chapel of 
the prison; as is always done with culprits the day before 
execution, that they may meditate on their approaching end, 
and repent them of their sins. 

Seeing things drawing to an extremity, the old governor 
determined to attend to the affair in person. For this purpose 
he ordered out his carriage of state, and, surrounded by hi;j 
guards, rmnbled down the avenue of the Alliambra into the 
city. ■ Driving to the house of the Escribano, he summoned 
him to the portal. 

The eye of the old governor gleamed like a ( oal at beholding 
the smirking man of the law advancing with an air of exul- 
tation. 

''What is this I hear," cried he, "that you are about to put 
to death one of my soldiers?" 



174 THE ALHAMBRA. 

"All according to law,— all in strict form of justice," said 
the self-sufficient Escribano, chuckling and rubbing his hands. 
"I can show your excellency the written testimony in the 
case." 

" Fetch it hither," said the governor. 

The Escribano bustled into his office, delighted with having 
another opportunity of displaying his ingenuity at the expense 
of the hard-headed veteran. He returned with a satchel fuM 
of papers, and began to read a long deposition with profes- 
sional volubility. By this time, a crowd had collected, hsten- 
ing with outstretched necks and gaping mouths. 

"Pry 'thee man, get into the carriage out of this pestilent 
throng, that I may the better hear thee," said the governor. 

The Escribano entered the carriage, when, in a twinkling, 
the door was closed, the coachman smacked his whip, mules, 
carriage, guards, and all dashed oif at a thundering rate, leav- 
ing the crowd in gaping wonderment, nor did the governor 
pause until he had lodged his prey in one of the strongest 
dungeons of the Alhambra. 

He then sent down a flag of truce in military style, propos- 
ing a cartel or exchange of prisoners, the corporal for the 
notary. The pride of the captain -general was piqued, he re- 
turned a contemptuous refusal, and forthwith caused a gal- 
lows, tall and strong, to be erected in the centre of the Plaza 
Neuvc, for the execution of the corporal. 

"O ho! is that the game?" said Governor Manco: he gave 
orders, and immediately a gibbet was reared on the verge of 
the great beetling bastion that overlooked the Plazn. " Now," 
said he, in a message to the captain-general, ' ' hang my soldier 
when you please ; but at the same time that he is swung off in 
the square, look up to see your Escribano dangling against the 
sky." 

The captain-general was inflexible; troops were paraded in 
the square; the drums beat; the bell tolled; an immense mul 
titude of amateurs had collected to behold the execution; on 
the other hand, the governor paraded his garrison on the bas- 
tion, and tolled the funeral dirge of the notary from the Torre 
de la Campana, or tower of the bell. 

The notary's wife pressed through the crowd with a whole 
progeny of little embryo Escribanoes at her heels, and throw- 
ing herself at the feet of the captain-general, implored him not 
to sacrifice the life of her husband, and the welfare of herself 
and her numerous little ones to a point of pride; "for you 



GOVERNOR MANCO AND THE SOLDIER. I75 

know the old governor too well," said she, "to doubt that he 
will put his threat in execution if you hang the soldier." 

The captain-general was overpowered by her tears and lam- 
entations, and the clamours of her callow brood. The corporal 
was sent up to the Alhambra under a guard, in his gallows 
garb, like a hooded friar ; but with head erect and a face of 
iron. The Escribano was demanded in exchange, according to 
the cartel. The once busthng and self-sufficient man of the 
law was drawn forth from his dungeon, more dead than ahve. 
All his flippancy and conceit had evaporated; his hair, it is 
said, had nearly turned gray with affright, and he had a down- 
cast, dogged look, as if he still felt the halter round his neck. 

The old governor stuck his one arm a-kimbo, and for a mo- 
ment surveyed him with an iron smile. "Henceforth, my 
friend," said he, "moderate your zeal in hurrying others to 
the gaUows; be not too certain of your own safety, even 
though you should have the law on your side ; and, above all, 
take care how you play off your Schoolcraft another time upon 
an old soldier." 



GOVERNOR MANCO AND THE SOLDIER. 



..i^ 



When Governor Manco, or the one-armed, kept up a show of 
military state in the Alhambra, he became nettled at the re- 
proaches continually cast upon his fortress of being a nestlmg 
place of rogues and contrabandistas. On a sudden, the old 
potentate determined on reform, and setting vigorously to 
work, ejected whole nests of vagabonds out of the fortress, 
and the gypsy caves with which the surrounding hills are 
honey-combed. He sent out soldiers, also, to patrol the 
avenues and footpaths, with orders to take up all suspicious 
persons. 

One bright summer morning, a patrol consisting of the testy 
old corporal who had distinguished himself in the affair of 
the notary, a trumpeter and two privates were seated under 
the garden wall of the Generaliffe, beside the road which leads 
down from the mountain of the Sun, when they heard the 
tramp of a horse, and a male voice singing in rough, though 
not unmusical tones, an old Castilian campaigning song. 

Presently they beheld a sturdy, sun-burnt fellow clad in the 



176 THE ALHAMBRA. 

ragged garb of a foot-soldier, leading a powerful Arabian 
horse caparisoned in the ancient Morisco fashion. 

Astonished at the sight of a strange soldier, descending, 
steed in hand, from that solitary mountain, the corporal 
stepped forth and challenged him. 

"Who goes there?". 

"A friend. " 

"Who, and what are you?" 

"A poor soldier, just from the wars, with a cracked crown 
and empty purse for a reward." 

By this time they were enabled to view him more narrowly. 
He had a black patch across his forehead, which, with a griz 
zled beard, added to a certain dare-devil cast of countenance, 
while a slight squint threw into the whole an occasional gleam 
of roguish good-humour. 

Having answered the questions of the patrol, the soldier 
seemed to consider himself entitled to make others in return. 

"May I ask," said he, " what city is this which I see at the 
foot of the liill?" 

"What city!" cried the trumpeter; "come, that's too bad. 
Here's a fellow lurking about the mountain of the Sun, and 
demands the name of the great city of Granada." 

"Granada ! Madre de Dios ! can it be possible !" 

" Perhaps not !" rejoined the trumpeter, "and perhaps you 
have no idea that yonder are the towers of the Alhambra?" 

" Son of a trumpet," replied the stranger, " do not trifle with 
me; if this be indeed the Alhambra, I have some strange mat- 
ters to reveal to the governor." 

" You will have an opportunity," said the corporal, " for we 
mean to take you before him." 

By this time the trumpeter had seized the bridle of the steed, 
the two privates had each secured an arm of the soldier, the 
corporal put himself in front, gave the word, "forward, 
march !" and away they marched for the Alhambra. 

The sight of a ragged foot-soldier and a fine Arabian horse 
brought in captive by the patrol, attracted the attention of all 
the idlers of the fortress, and of those gossip groups that gen- 
erally assemble about wells and fountains at early dawn. The 
wheel of the cistern paused in its rotations ; the shpshod ser- 
vant-maid stood gaping with pitcher in hand, as tlie corporal 
passed by with his prize. A motley train gradually gathered 
in the rear of the escort. Knowing nods, and winks, and con- 
;|ectures passed from one to another. It is a deserter, said 



GOVERJSOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER. 177 

one ; a contrabandista, said another ; a bandalero, said a third, 
until it was affirmed that a captain of a desperate band of 
robbers had been captured by the prowess of the corporal and 
his patrol. "Well, well," said the old crones one to another, 
" captain or not, let him get out of the grasp of old Governor 
Manco if he can, though he is but one-handed." 

Governor Manco was seated in one of the inner halls of the 
Alhambra, taking his morning's cup of chocolate in company 
with his confessor, a fat Franciscan friar from the neighbour- 
ing convent. A demure, dark-eyeCi damsel of Malaga, the 
daughter of his housekeeper, was attending upon him. 

The world hinted that the damsel, who, with all her demure- 
ness, was a sly, buxom baggage, had found out a soft spot 
in the iron heart of the old governor, and held complete con- 
trol over him, — ^but let that pass; the domestic affairs of these 
m.ighty potentates of the earth should not be too narrowly 
scrutinized. 

When word was brought that a suspicious stranger had 
been taken lurking about the fortress, and was actually in the 
outer court, in durance of the corporal, waiting the pleasure 
of his excellency, the pride and stateliness of office swelled the 
bosom of the governor. Giving back his chocolate cup into 
the hands of the demure damsel, he called for his basket-hilted 
sword, girded it to his side, twirled up his mustacliios, took 
his seat in a large high-backed chair, assumed a bitter and for 
bidding aspect, and ordered the prisoner into his presence. 
The soldier was brought in, still closely pinioned by his cap- 
tors, and guarded by the corporal. He maintained, however, 
a resolute, self-confident air, and returned the sharp, scruti- 
nizing look of the governor with an easy squint, which by no 
means pleased the punctilious old potentate. 

"WeU, culprit I" said the governor, after he had regarded 
him for a moment in silence, " what have you to say for youi*- 
self? who are you?" 

"A soldier, just from the wars, who has brought away 
nothing but scars and bruises." 

"A soldier? humph! a foot-soldier by your garb. I under- 
stand you have a fine Arabian horse. I presume you brought 
him too from the wars, beside your scars and bruises." 

"May it please your excellency, I have something strange 
to tell about that horse. Indeed, I have one of the most won- 
derful things to relate — something too that concerns the secu- 
rity of tliis fortress, indeed, of aU Granada. But it is a matter 



178 ^'^^^ ALHAMBRA. 

to be imparted only to your private ear, or in presence of such 
only as are in your confidence. " 

The governor considered for a moment, and then directed the 
corporal and his men to withdraw, but to post themselves out- 
side of the door, and be ready at call. " This holy friar," said 
he, " is my confessor, you may say anything in his presence- 
and this damsel," nodding towards the handmaid, who had 
loitered with an air of great curiosity, " tliis damsel is of great 
secrecy and discretion, and to be trusted with any thing." 

The soldier gave a glance between a squint and a leer at the 
demure handmaid. "lam perfectly willing," said he, "that 
the damsel should remain." 

When all the rest had withdrawn, the soldier commenced 
his story. He was a fluent, smooth-tongued varlet, and had a 
command of language above his apparent rank. 

" May it please your excellency," said he, "I am, as I before 
observed, a soldier, and have seen some hard service, but my 
term of enlistment being expired, I was discharged not long 
since from the army at Valladolid, and set out on foot for my 
native village in Andalusia. Yesterday evening the sun went 
down as I was traversing a great dry plain of old Castile." 

"Hold!" cried the governor, "what is this you say? Old 
Castile is some two or three hundred miles from this." 

"Even so," replied the soldier, coolly, "I told your excel- 
lency I had strange things to relate— but not more strange 
than true— as your excellency will find, if you will deign me a 
patient hearing." 

"Proceed, culprit," said the governor, twirling up his mus- 
tachios. 

"As the sun went down," continued the soldier, "I cast my 
eyes about in search of some quarters for the night, but far as 
my sight could reach, there were no signs of habitation. I saw 
that I should have to make my bed on the naked plain, with 
my knapsack for a pillow ; but your excellency is an old sol- 
dier, and knows that to one who has been in the wars, such a 
night's lodging is no great hardship." 

The governor nodded assent, as he drew his pocket-handker- 
chief out of the basket-hilt of his sword, to drive away a fly 
that buzzed about his nose. 

"Well, to make a long story short," continued the soldier, 
" I trudged forward for several miles, until I came to a bridge 
over a deep ravine, through which ran a little thread of water, 
almost dried up by the summer heat. At one end of the bridge 



OOVERNOn MANGO AND THE SOLDIER, 179 

was a Moorish tower, the upper part all in ruins, but a vault 
in the foundations quite entire. Here, thinks I, is a good place 
to make a halt. So I went down to the stream, took a hearty 
drink, for the water was pure and sweet, and I was parched 
with thirst, then opening my wallet, 1 took out an onion and 
a few crusts, which were all my provisions, and seating myself 
on a stone on the margm of the stream, began to make my 
supper; intending afterwards to quarter myself for the night 
in the vault of the tower, and capital quarters they would have 
been for a campaigner just from the wars, as your excellency, 
who is an old soldier, may suppose." 

"I have put up gladly with worse in my time," said the 
governor, returning his pocket-handkerchief into the hilt of 
his sword. 

"While I was quietly crunching my crust," pursued the 
soldier, "I heard something stir within the vault ; I listened : 
it was the tramp of a horse. By and by a man came forth 
from a door in the foundation of the tower, close by the 
water's edge, leading a powerful horse by the bridle. I could 
not well make out what he was by the starlight. It had a 
suspicious look to be lurking among the ruins of a tower in 
that wild solitary place. He might be a mere wayfarer like 
myself ; he might be a contrabandista ; he might be a banda- 
lero! What of that,— thank heaven and my poverty, I had 
nothing to lose, — so I sat still and crunched my crusts. 

"He led his horse to the water close by where I was sitting, 
so that I had a fair opportunity of reconnoitring him. To my 
surprise, he was dressed in a Moorish garb, with a cuirass of 
steel, and a polished skullcap, that I distinguished by the re- 
flection of the stars upon it. His horse, too, was harnessed in 
the Morisco fashion, with great shovel stirrups. He led him, 
as I said, to the side of the stream, into which the animal 
plunged his head almost to the eyes, and drank until I thought 
he would have burst. 

" ' Comrade,' said I, * your steed drinks well: it's a good sign 
when a horse plunges his muzzle bravely into the water.' 

" 'He may well drink,' said the stranger, speaking with a 
Moorish accent; 'it is a good year since he had his last 
draught.' 

" 'By Santiago,' said I, 'that beats even the camels that I 
have seen in Africa. But come, you seem to be something of 
a soldier, won't you sit down, and take part of a soldier's fare? ' 
— ^In fact, I felt the want of a companion in this lonely place, 



180 THE ALHAMBRA. 

and was willing to put up with an infidel. Besides, as your 
excellency- well knows, a soldier is never very particular about 
the faith of his company, and soldiers of all countries are com- 
rades on peaceable ground. " 

The governor again nodded assent. 

"Well, as I was saying, I invited him to share my supper, 
such as it was, for I could not do less in common hospitality^ 

" 'I have no time to pause for meat or drink,' said he, '1 
have a long journey to make before morning.' 

" ' In which direction? ' said I. 

*' ' Andalusia,' said he. 

" '■ Exactly my route,' said I. ' So as you won't stop and eat 
with me, perhaps you'll let me mount and ride with you. I 
see your horse is of a powerful frame : I'll warrant he'll carry 
double.' 

"'Agreed,' said the trooper; and it would not have been 
civil and soldierhke to refuse, especially as I had offered to 
share my supper with him. So up he mounted, and up I 
mounted behind him. 

" ' Hold fast,' said he, 'my steed goes like the wind.' 

" ' Never fear me,' said I, and so off we set. 

"From a walk the horse soon passed to a trot, from a trot to 
a gallop, and from a gallop to a harum-scarum scamper. It 
seemed as if rocks, trees, houses, everything, flew hm-ry-scurry 
behind us. 

" ' What town is this? ' said I. 

" 'Sego\aa,' said he; and before the words were out of Ills 
j^outh, the towers of Segovia were out of sight. We swept up 
the Guadarama mountains, and down by the Escurial ; and we 
skirted the walls of Madrid, and we scoured away across the 
plains of La Mancha. In this way we went up hill and down 
dale, by towns and cities ail buried in deep sleep, and across 
mountains, and plains, and rivers, just glimmering in the star 
lig:ht. 

•'To make a long story short, and not to fatigue your excel- 
lency, the trooper suddenly pulled up on the side of a moun- 
tain. ' Here we are, ' said he, ' at the end of our journey. ' 

"I looked about but could see no signs of habitation: noth- 
ing but the mouth of a cavern : while I looked, I saw multitudes 
of people in Moorish dresses, some on horseback, some on foot, 
arriving as if borne by the wind from all points of the compass, 
and hurrying into the mouth of the cavern hke bees into a 
hive. Before I could ask a question, the trooper struck his 



GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER. \Qt 

long Moorish spurs into the horse's flanks, and dashed in with 
the throng. We passed along a steep winding way that de- 
scended into the very bowels of the mountain. As we pushed 
on, a light began to glimmer up by little and little, hke the 
first ghmmerings of day, but what caused it, 1 could not dis- 
cover. It grew stronger and stronger, and enabled me to see 
everything around. I now noticed as we passed along, great 
caverns opening to the right and left, like halls in an arsenal. 
In some there were shields, and helmets, and cuirasses, and 
lances, and scimitars hanging against the walls; in others, 
there were great heaps of warhke munitions and camp equi- 
page lying upon the ground. 

"It would have done your excellency's heart good, being an 
old soldier, to have seen such grand provision for war. Then 
in other caverns there were long rows of horsemen, armed to 
the teeth, with lances raised and banners unfurled, aU ready 
for the field ; but they all sat motionless in their saddles like 
so many statues. In other haUs, were warriors sleeping on the 
ground beside their horses, and foot soldiers in groups, ready 
to fall into the ranks. AU were in old-fashioned Moorish 
dresses and armour. 

"Well, your excellency, to cut a long story short, we at 
length entered an immense cavern, or I might say palace, of 
grotto work, the walls of which seemed to be veined with gold 
and silver, and to sparkle with diamonds and sapphires, and 
all kinds of precious stones. At the upper end sat a Moorish 
king on a golden throne, with his nobles on each side, and a 
guard of African blacks with drawn scimitars. AU the crowd 
that continued to flock in, and amounted to thousands and 
thousands, passed one by one before his throne, each paying 
homage as he passed. Some of the multitude were dressed in 
magnificent robes, without stain or blemish, and sparkling 
with jewels ; others in burnished and enamelled armour ; whUe 
others were in mouldered and mUdewed garments, and in 
armour all battered and dinted, and covered with rust. 

"I had hitherto held my tongue, for your exceUency weU 
knows, it is not for a soldier to ask many questions when on 
duty, but I could keep silence no longer. 

"'Pr'ythee, comrade,' said I, 'what is the meaning of aU 
this?' 

" ' This,' said the trooper, ' is a great and powerful mystery. 
-Know, O Christian, that you see before you the court and 
army of BoabdU. the last king of Granada ' 



182 THE ALHAMBRA. 

" 'What is this you tell me!' cried I. 'Boabdil and his 
court were exiled from the land hundreds of years agone, and 
all died in Africa. ' 

" 'So it is recorded in your lying chronicles,' replied the 
Moor, 'but know that Boabdil and the warriors who made 
the last struggle for Granada were all shut up in this moun-' 
tain by powerful enchantment. As to the king and army that 
marched forth from Granada at the time of the surrender, 
they were a mere phantom train, or spirits and demons per-^ 
mitted to assume those shapes to deceive the Christian sove- 
reigns. And furthermore let me tell you, friend, that all Spain 
is a country under the power of enchantment. There is not a 
mountain-cave, not a lonely watch-tower in the plains, nor 
ruined castle on the hills, but has some spell-bound warriors 
sleeping from age to age within its vaults, until the sins are 
expiated for which Allah permitted the dominion to pass for a 
time out of the hands of the faithful. Once every year, on the 
eve of St. John, they are released from enchantment from sun- 
set to sunrise, and permitted to repair here to pay homage to 
their sovereign ; and the crowds which you beheld swarming 
into the cavern are Moslem warriors from their haunts in all 
parts of Spain ; for my own part, you saw the ruined tower of 
the bridge in old Castile, where I have now wintered and sum- 
mered for many hundred years, and where I must be back 
again by day -break. As to the battalions of horse and foot 
which you beheld drawn up in array in the neighbouring cav- 
erns, they are the spell-bound warriors of Granada. It is 
written in the book of fate, that when the enchantment is 
broken, Boabdil ^iU descend from the mountains at the head 
of this army, resume his throne in the Alhambra and his sway 
of Granada, and gathering together the enchanted warriors 
from all parts of Spain, will reconquer the peninsula, and re- 
store it to Moslem rule.' 

" ' And when shall this happen?' said I. 

" 'Allah alone knows. We had hoped the day of deliver- 
ance was at hand ; but there reigns at present a vigilant gov- 
ernor in Alhambra, a staunch old soldier, the same called 
Governor Manco ; while such a Avarrior holds command of the 
very outpost, and stands ready to check the first irruption 
from the mountain, I fear Boabdil and his soldiery must be 
content to rest upon their arms.' " 

Here the governor raised himself somewhat perpendicularly, 
adjusted his sword, and twirled up his mustachios. 



aOVF.RXOR MANGO ANT) THE SOLDIER. 18!^ 

" To make a long story short, and not to fatigue your excel- 
lency, the trooper having given me this account, dismounted 
from his steed. 

" ' Tarry here,' said he, ' and guard my steed, while I go and 
bow the knee to Boabdil. ' So saying, he strode away among 
the throng that pressed forward to the throne. 

"What's to be done? thought I, when thus left to myself. 
Shall I wait here until this infidel returns to whisk me off on 
his goblin steed, the Lord knows where? or shall I make the 
most of my time, and beat a retreat from this hobgoblin com- 
munity?— A soldier's mind is soon made up, as your excellency 
well knows. As to the horse, he belonged to an avowed enemy 
of the faith and the realm, and was a fair prize according to 
the rules of war. So hoisting myself from the crupper into 
the saddle, I turned the reins, struck the Moorish stirrups 
into the sides of the steed, and put him to make the best of his 
way out of the passage by which we had entered. As we 
scoured by the halls where the Moslem horsemen sat in 
motionless battahons, I thought I heard the clang of armour, 
and a hollow murmur of voices. I gave the steed another 
taste of the stirrups, and doubled my speed. There was now a 
sound behind me like a rushing blast ; I heard the clatter of a 
thousand hoofs; a countless throng overtook me; I was borne 
along in the press, and hurled forth from the mouth of the 
cavern, while thousands of shadowy forms were swept off in 
every direction by the four winds of heaven. 

"In the whirl and confusion of the scene, I was thrown 
from the saddle, and fell sejiseless to the earth. When I came 
to myself I was lying on the brow of a hill, with the xlrabian 
steed standing beside me, for in falling my arm had slipped 
within the bridle, which, I presume, prevented his whisking 
off to old Castile. 

"Your excellency may easily judge of my surprise on look- 
ing round, to behold hedges of aloes and Indian figs, and other 
proofs of a southern climate, and see a great city below mo 
v/ith towers and palaces, and a grand cathedral. I descended 
the hill cautiously, leading my steed, for I was afraid to 
mount him again, lest he should play me some slippery trick. 
As I descended, I met with your patrol, who let me into the 
secret that it was Granada that lay before me : and that I was 
actually under the walls of the Alhambra, the fortress of the 
redoubted Governor Manco, the terror of all enchanted Mos- 
lems. When I heard this, I determined at once to seek your 



]34 ^'^^' ALHAMBEA. 

excellency, to inform you of all that I had seen, and to warn 
you of the perils that surround and under- uine you, that you 
may take measures in time to guard your iortress, and the 
kingdom itself, from this intestine army chat lurks in the very 
bowels of the land." 

"And pr'ythee, friend, you who are a veteran campaigner, 
and have seen so much service," said the governor, "how 
would you advise me to go about to prevent this evil?" 

"It is not for an humble private of the ranks," said the 
soldier modestly, "to pretend to instruct a commander of 
your excellency's sagacity; but it appears to me that your 
excellency might cause all the caves and entrances into the 
mountain to be walled up with sohd mason-work, so that 
Boabdil and his army might be completely corked up in their 
subterranean habitation. If the good father too, " added the 
soldier, reverently bowmg to the friar, and devoutly crossing 
himself, "would consecrate the barricadoes with his blessing, 
and put up a few crosses and reliques, and images of saints, I 
think they might withstand all the power of infidel enchant- 
ments." 

" They doubtless would be of great avail," said the friar. 

The governor now placed his arm a-kimbo, with his hand 
resting on the hilt of his toledo, fixed his eye upon the soldier, 
and gently wagging his head from one side to the other : 

"So, friend," said he, "then you really suppose I am to be 
gulled with this cock-and-bull story about enchanted moun- 
tains, and enchanted Moors. Hark ye, culprit !~not another 
word.— An old soldier you may be, but you'll find you have 
an old soldier to deal with ; and one not easily out gener ailed. 
Ho! guard there I— put this fellow in irons." 

The demure handmaid would have put in a word in favour 
of the prisoner, but the governor silenced her with a look. 

As they were pinioning the soldier, one of the guards felt 
something of bulk in his pocket, and drawing it forth, found a 
long leathern purse that appeared to be weU filled. Holding it 
by one corner, he turned out the contents on the table before 
the governor, and never did freebooter's bag make more gor- 
geous delivery. Out tumbled rings and jewels, and rosaries of 
pearls, and sparkling diamond crosses, and a profusion of an- 
cient golden coin, some of which fell jingling to the floor, and 
rolled away to the uttermost parts of the chamber. 

For a time the functions of justice were suspended: there 
was a universal scramble after the glittering fugitives. Tho 



GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER. 185 

governor alone, who was imbued with true Spanish pride, 
maintained his stately decorum, though his eye betrayed a 
little anxiety until the last coin and jewel was restored to the 
sack. 

The friar was not so calm; his whole face glowed like a fur- 
nace, and his eyes twinkled and flashed at sight of the rosaries 
and crosses. 

" Sacrilegious wretch that thou art," exclaimed he, "what 
church or sanctuary hast thou been plundering of these sacred 
reliques?" 

^ "Neither one nor the other, holy father. If they be sacrile- 
gious spoils, they must have been taken in times long past by 
the infidel trooper I have mentioned. I was just going to tell 
his excellency, when he interrupted me, that, on taking pos- 
session of the trooper's horse, I unhooked a leathern sack which 
hung at the saddle bow, and which, I presume, contained the 
plunder of his campaignings in days of old, when the Moors 
overran the country." 

" Mighty well,— at present you will make up your mind to 
take up your quarters in a chamber of the Vermilion t®wers, 
which, though not under a magic spell, will hold you as safe as 
any cave of your enchanted Moors." 

" Your excellency will do as you think proper," said the pri- 
soner coolly. " I shall be thankful to your excellency for any 
accommodation in the fortress. A soldier who has been in the 
wars, as your excellency well knows, is not particular about 
liis lodgings; and provided I have a snug dungeon and regular 
rations, I shall manage to maliic myself comfortable. I would 
only entreat, that while your excellency is so careful about me, 
you would have an eye to your fortress, and think on the hint 
I dropped about stopping up the entrances to the moun- 
tain." 

Here ended the scene. The prisoner was conducted to a 
strong dungeon in the Vermihon towers, the Arabian steed 
was led to his excellency's stable, and the trooper's sack was 
deposited in his excellency's strong box. To the latter, it is 
true, the friar made some demur, questioning whether the 
sacred rehques, which were evidently sacrilegious spoils, should 
not be placed in custody of the church; but as the governor 
was peremptory on the subject, and was absolute lord in the 
Alhambra, the friar discreetly dropped the discussion, but de- 
termined to convey inteUigence of the fact to the church dig- 
nitaries in Granada. 



IS6 THE ALHAMBRA. 

To explain these prompt and rigid measures on the part of 
old Governor Manco, it is i^roper to observe, tliat about this 
time the Alpuxarra mountains in tlie neighbourhood of Gra- 
nada were terribly infected by a gang of robbers, under the 
command of a daring chief named Manuel Borasco, who were 
accustomed to prowl about the country, and even to enter the 
city in various disguises to gain intelligence of the departure 
of convoys of merchandise, or travellers with well-hned purses, 
whom they took care to waylay in distant and solitary passes 
of their road. These repeated and daring outrages had awak- 
ened the attention of government, and the commanders of the 
various posts had received instructions to be on the alert, and 
to take up all suspicious stragglers. Governor Manco was par- 
ticularly zealous, in consequence of the various stigmas that 
had been cast upon his fortress, and he now doubted not that 
he had entrapped some formidable desperado of this gang. 

In the mean time the story took wind, and became the talk 
not merely of the fortress, but of the whole city of Granada. 
It was said that the noted robber, Manuel Borasco , the terror 
of the Alpuxarras, had fallen into the clutches of old Governor 
Manco, and been cooped up by him in a dungeon of the Ver- 
milion towers, and every one who had been robbed by him 
flocked to recognize the marauder. The Vermilion towers, as 
is well known, stand apart from the Alhambra, on a sister hill 
separated from the main fortress by the ravine, down which 
passes the main avenue. There were no outer walls, but a sen- 
tinel patrolled before the tower. The window of the cha^nber 
in which the soldier was confined was strongly grated, and 
looked upon a small esplanade. Here the good folks of Gra- 
nada repaired to gaze at him, as they would at a laughing 
hyena grinning through the cage of a menagerie. Nobody, 
however, recognized him for Manuel Borasco, for that terrible 
robber was noted for a ferocious physiognomy, and had by no 
means the good-humoured squint of the prisoner. Visitors 
came not merely from the city, but from all parts of the coun- 
try, but nobody knew him, and there began to be doubts in the 
minds of the common people, whether there might not be some 
truth in his story. That Boabdil and his army were shut up in 
the mountain, was an old tradition which many of the ancient 
inhabitants had heard from their fathers. Numbers went up 
to the mountain of the Sun, or rather of St. Elena, in search of 
the cave mentioned by the soldier ; and saw and peeped into 
the deep dark pit, descending, no one knows how far, into the 



GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER. 187 

mountain, and which remains there to this day, the fabled en- 
trance to the subterranean abode of Boabdil. 

By degrees, the soldier became popular with the common 
people. A freebooter of the mountains is by no means the op- 
probrious character in Spain that a robber is in any other coun- 
try; on the contrary, he is a kind of chivalrous personage in 
the eyes of the lower classes. There is always a disposition, 
also, to cavil at the conduct of those in command, and many 
began to murmur at the higli-handed measures of old Grovernor 
Manco, and to look upon the prisoner in the light of a martyr. 

The soldier, moreover, was a merry, waggish fellow, that 
had a joke for every one who came near his window, and a 
soft speech for every female. He had procured an old gui- 
tar also, and would sit by his window and sing ballads and 
love-ditties to the delight of the women of the neighbour- 
hood, who would assemble on the esplanade in the evenings, 
and dance boleros to his music. Having trimmed off his 
rough beard, his sunburnt face found favour in the eyes of 
the fair, and the demure handmaid of the governor declared 
that bis squint was perfectly irresistible. This kind-hearted 
damsel had, from the first, evinced a deep sympathy in his 
fortunes, and having in vain tried to mollify the governor, 
had set to work privately to mitigate the rigour of his dis- 
pensations. Every day she brought the prisoner some crumbs 
of comfort which had fallen from the governor's table, or 
been abstracted from his larder, together with, now and then, 
a consoling bottle of choice Val de Penas, or rich Malaga. 

While this petty treason was going on in the very centre of 
the old governor's citadel, a storm of open war was brewing up 
among his external foes. The circumstance of a bag of gold 
and jewels having been found upon the person of the supposed 
robber, had been reported with many exaggerations in Gra- 
nada. A question of territorial jurisdiction was immediately 
started by the governor's inveterate rival, the captain-general. 
He insisted that the prisoner had been captured without the pre- 
cincts of the Alhambra, and within the rules of his authority. 
He demanded his body, therefore, and the spolia opima taken 
-with. him. Due information havinc; been carried likewise by 
the friar to the grand Inquisitor, of the crosses, and the rosa- 
ries, and other reliques contained in the bag, he claimed the cul- 
prit, as having been guilty of sacrilege, and insisted that his 
lolunder was due to the church, and his body to the next Auto 
da Fe. The feuds ran high; the governor was furious, ancl 



188 2'^^' ALHAIIBliA. 

swore, rather than surrender his captive, he would hang him 
up within the Alhambra, as a spy caught witiiin the pin-Ueus 
of the fortress. 

The captain-general threatened to send a body of soldiers to 
transfer the prisoner from the Vermilion towers to the city. 
The grand Inquisitor was equally bent upon despatching a 
niunber of the f amihars of the holy office. Word was brought 
late at night to the governor, of these machinations. "Let 
them come," said he, "they'll find me beforehand with them. 
He must rise bright and early w^ho would take in an old sol- 
dier." He accordingly issued orders to have the prisoner re- 
moved at daybreak to the Donjon Keep within the walls of the 
Alhambra: "And d'ye hear, child," said he to his demure 
handmaid, " tap at my door, and wake me before cock-crow- 
ing, that I may see to the matter myself." 

The day dawned, the cock crowed, but nobody tapped at the 
door of the governor. The sun rose high above the mountain- 
tops, and glittered in at his casement ere the governor wa3 
awakened from his morning dreams by his veteran corporal, 
who stood before him with terror stamped upon his iron 
visage. 

"He's off! he's gone!" cried the corporal, gasping for breath. 

"Who's off?— who's gone?" 

" The soldier — the robber — the devil, for aught I know. His 
dungeon is empty, but the door locked. No one knows how 
he has escaped out of it. " 

"Who saw him last?" 

"Your handmaid,— she brought him his supper." 

" Let her be called instantly." 

Here was new matter of confusion. The chamber of the 
demure damsel was likewise empty; her bed had not been 
slept in ; she had doubtless gone off with the culprit, as she 
liad appeared, for some days past, to have frequent conversa- 
tions with him. 

This was wounding the old governor in a tender part, but he 
had scarce time to wince at it, when new misfortunes broke 
upon his view. On going into his cabinet, he found his strong 
box open, the leathern purse of the trooper extracted, and v/ith 
it a couple of corpulent bags of doubloons. 

But how, and which way had the fugitives escaped? A 
peasant who lived in a cottage by the road-side leading up 
into the Sierra, declared that he liad heard the tramp of a 
powerful steed, just before daybreak, passing up into the 



LEGEND OF THK TWO BlSCliEET STATUES. 189 

mountains. He had looked out at his casement, and could 
just distinguish a horseman, with a female seated before him. 
"Search the stables," cried Governor Manco. The stables 
were searched; all the horses were in their stalls, excepting 
the Arabian steed. In his place was a stout, cudgel tied to 
the manger, and on it a label bearing these words, " A gift to 
Governor Manco, from an old soldier. " 



LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. 

There hved once, in a waste apartment of the Alhambra, a 
merry httle fellow named Lope Sanchez, who worked in the 
gardens, and was as brisk and blithe as a grasshopper, singing 
all day long. He was the life and soul of the fortress ; when 
his work was over, he would sit on one of the stone benches of 
the esplanade and strum his guitar, and sing long ditties about 
the Cid, and Bernardo del Carpio, and Fernando del Pulgar, 
and other Spanish heroes, for the amusement of the old sol- 
diers of the fortress, or would strike up a merrier tune, and set 
the girls dancing boleros and fandangos. 

Like most little men, Lojdc Sanchez had a strapping buxom 
dame for a wife, who could almost have put him in her pocket ; 
but he lacked the usual poor man's lot, — instead of ten chil- 
dren he had but one. This was a little black-eyed girl, about 
twelve years of age, named Sanchica, who was as merry as 
himself, and the delight of his heart. She played about him 
as he vrorked in the gardens,- danced to his guitar as he sat in 
the shade, and ran as wild as a young fawn about the groves, 
and alleys, and ruined halls of the Alhambra. 

It was now the eve of the blessed St. John, and the holyday- 
loving gossips of the Alhambra, men, women, and chiidren, 
went up at night to the mountain of the Sun, which rises, 
al30ve the Generalifie, to keep their midsummer vigil on its 
level summit. It was a bright moonlight night, and all the 
mountains were gray and silvery, and the city, with its domes 
and spires, lay in shadows below, and the Vega was like a 
fau-y land, with haunted streams gleaming among its dusky 
groves. On the highest part of the mountain they lit up a 
bale fire, according to an old custom of the country handed 
down from the Moors. The inhabitants of the surrounding 



190 THE ALHAMBRA. 

country were keeping a similar vigil, and bale fires here and 
there in the Vega, and along the folds of the mountains, blazed 
up palely in the moonlight. 

The evening was gaily passed in dancing to the guitar of 
Lope Sanchez, who was never so joyous as when on a holiday 
revel of the kind. While the dance was going on, the little 
Sanchica with some of her playmates sported among the ruins 
of an old Moorish fort that crowns the mountain, when, in 
gathering pebbles in the fosse, she found a small hand, curi- 
ously carved of jet, the fingers closed, and the thumb firmly 
clasped upon them. Overjoyed with her good fortune, she 
ran to her mother with her prize. It immediately became a 
subject of sage speculation, and was eyed by some with super- 
stitious distrust. "Throw it away," said one, "it is Moorish, 
— depend upon it there's mischief and witchcraft in it." " By 
no means," said another, "you may sell it for something to 
the jeweller ^f the Zacatin." In the midst of this discussion 
an old tawny soldier drew near, who had served in Africa, and 
was as swarthy as a Moor. He examined the hand with a 
knowing look. "I have seen things of this kind," said he, 
" among the Moors of Barbary. It is of great value to guard 
against the evil eye, and all kinds of spells and enchantments. 
I give you joy, friend Lope, this bodes good luck to your 
child." 

Upon hearing this, the wife of Lope Sanchez tied the little 
hand of jet to a riband, and hung it round the neck of her 
daughter. 

The sight of this talisman caUed up aU the favourite super- 
stitions about the Moors. The dance was neglected, and they 
sat in groups on the ground, telling old legendary tales handed 
down from their ancestors. Some of their stories turned upon 
the wonders of the very mountain upon which they were 
seated, which is a famous hobgoblin region. 

One ancient crone gave a long account of the subterranean 
palace in the bowels of that mountain, where Boabdil and all 
his Moslem court are said to remain enchanted. "Among 
yonder ruins," said she, pointing to some crumbling walls and 
mounds of earth on a distant part of the mountain, " there is 
a deep black pit that goes down, down into the very heart of 
the mountain. For all the money in Granada, I would not 
look down into it. Once upon a time, a poor man of the Al- 
hambra, who tended goats upon this mountain, scrambled 
down into that pit after a kid that had fallen in. He came out 



LKGEJSI) OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. 191 

again, all wild and staring, and told such things of what he 
had seen, that everyone thought his brain was turned. He 
raved for a day or two about hobgoblin Moors that had pur- 
sued him in the cavern, and could hardly be persuaded to 
drive his goats up again to the mountain. He did so at last, 
but, poor man, he never came down again. The neighbours 
found his goats browsing about the Moorish ruins, and his haii 
and mantle lying near the mouth of the pit, but he was never 
more heard of . " 

The little Sancliica listened with breathless attention to this 
story. She was of a curious nature, and felt immediately a 
great hankering to peep into this dangerous pit. Stealing 
away from her companions, she sought the distant ruins, and 
after groping for some time among them, came to a smaU 
hollow or basin, near the brow of the mountain, where it 
swept steeply down into the valley of the Darro. In the 
centre of this basin yawned the mouth of the pit. Sanchica 
ventured to the verge and peeped in. All was black as pitch, 
and gave an idea of immeasurable depth. Her blood ran cold 
— she drew back — then peeped again — then would have run 
away — then took another peep— the very horror of the thing 
was dehghtful to her. At length she rolled a large stone, and 
pushed it over the brink. For some time it fell in silence; 
then struck some rocky projection with a violent crash, then 
rebounded from side to side, rumbling and tumbling, with a 
noise like thunder, then made a final splash into water, far, 
far below, and all was again silent. 

The silence, however, did not long continue. It seemed as 
if something had been awakened within this dreary abyss. A 
murmuring sound gradually rose out of the pit like the hum 
and buzz of a bee-hive. It grew louder and louder ; there was 
the confusion of voices as of a distant multitude, together with 
the faint din of arms, clash of cymbals, and clangour of trum- 
pets, as if some army were marshalling for battle in the very 
bowels of the mountain. 

The child drew off with silent awe, and hastened back to 
the place where she had left her parents and their companions. 
All were gone. The bale fire was expiring, and its last wreath 
of smoke curling up in the moonshine. The distant fires that 
had blazed along the mountains and in the Vega were all ex- 
tinguished ; every thing seemed to have sunk to repose. San- 
chica called her parents and some of her companions by name, 
but received no reply. She ran down the side of the mountain, 



192 ^'^^ ALHAMBRA. 

and by the gardens of the GeneraHffe, until she arrived in the 
alley of trees leading to the Alhambra, where she seated herself 
on a bench of a woody recess to recover breath. The bell from 
the watch-tower of the Alhambra told midnight. There was 
a deep tranquillity, as if all nature slept ; excepting the low 
tinkling sound of an unseen stream that ran under the covert 
of the bushes. The breathing sweetness of the atmosphere 
was lulling her to sleep, when her eye was caught by some- 
thing glittering at a distance, and to her surprise, she beheld a 
long cavalcade of Moorish warriors pouring down the moun- 
tain side, and along the leafy avenues. Some were armed 
with lances and shields ; others with scimitars and battle-axes, 
and with polished cuirasses that flashed in the moon-beams. 
Their horses pranced proudly, and champed upon the bit. but 
their tramp caused no more sound than if they had been shod 
with felt, and the riders were all as pale as death. Among 
them rode a beautiful lady with a crowned head and long 
golden locks entwined with pearls. The housings of her 
palfrey were of crimson velvet embroidered with gold, and 
swept the earth; but she rode all disconsolate, with eyes ever 
fixed upon the ground. 

Then succeeded a train of courtiers magnificently arrayed in 
robes and turbans of divers colours, and amidst these, on a 
cream-coloured charger, rode king Boabdil el Chico, in a royal 
mantle covered with jewels, and a crown sparkling with 
diamonds. The httle Sanchica knew him by his yellow beard, 
and his resemblance to his portrait, wliich she had often seen 
in the picture gallery of the Generaliffe. She gazed in wonder 
and admiration at this royal pageant as it passed glistening 
among the trees, but though, she knew these monarchs, and 
courtiers, and warriors, so pale and silent, were out of the 
common course of nature, and things of magic or enchant- 
ment, yet she looked on with a bold heart, such courage did 
she derive from the mystic talisman of the hand which was 
suspended about her neck. 

The cavalcade having passed by, she rose and followed. It 
continued on to the great gate of Justice, which stood wide 
open; the old invalid sentinels on duty, lay on the stone 
benches of the Barbican, buried in profound and apparently 
charmed sleep, and the phantom pageant swept noiselessly by 
them with flaunting banner and triumphant state. Sanchica 
would have followed, but, to her surprise, she beheld an open- 
ing in the earth within the Barbican, leading down beneath 



LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCBEET STATUES, 193 

the ^foundations of the tower. She entered for a Httle distance, 
and was encouraged to proceed by finding steps rudely hewn 
in the rock, and a vaulted passage here and there lit up by a 
silver lamp, which, while it gave light, diffused likewise a 
grateful fragrance. Venturing on, she came at last to a great 
hail wrought out of the heart of the mountain, magnificently 
furnished in the Moorish style, and lighted up by silver and 
crystal lamps. Here on an ottoman sat an old man in Moorish 
dress, with a long white beard, nodding and dozing, with a 
staff in his hand, which seemed ever to be slipping from his 
grasp ; while at a little distance, sat a beautiful lady in ancient 
Spanish dress, with a coronet all sparkling with diamonds, 
and her hau' entwined with pearls, who was softly playing on 
a silver lyre. The little Sanchica now recollected a story she 
had heard among the old people of the Alhambra, concerning 
a Gothic princess confined in the centre of the mountain by 
an old Arabian magician, whom she kept bound up in magic 
sleep by the power of music. 

Tlie lady paused with surprise, at seeing a mortal in that 
enchanted hall. "Is it the eve of the blessed St. John?" said 
she. 

"It is," repHed Sanchica. 

" Then for one night the magic charm is suspended. Come 
hither, child, and fear not, I am a Christian like thyself, 
though bound here by enchantment.- Touch my fetters with 
the talisman that hangs about thy neck, and for this night I 
shall be free." 

So saying, she opened her robes and displayed a broad 
golden band round her waist, and a golden chain that fastened 
Ixer to the ground. The child hesitated not to apply the little 
hand of jet to the golden band, and immediately the chain feU 
to the earth. At the sound the old man awoke, and began to 
rub his eyes, but the lady ran her fingers over the chords of 
the lyre, and again he f eU into a slumber and began to nod, and 
his staff to falter in his hand. "Now," said the lady, " touch 
his staff with the talismanic hand of jet. " The child did so, and 
it fell from liis grasp, and he sank in a deep sleep on the otto- 
man. The lady gently laid the silver lyre on the ottoman lean- 
ing it against the head of the sleeping magician, then touching 
the chords until they vibrated in his ear, " O potent spirit 
of harmony," said she, "continue thus to hold his senses 
in thraldom tiU the return of day." "Now follow me, my 
child," -continued she, "and thou shalt behold the Alhambra as 



194 THE ALHAMBRA. 

it was in the days of its glory, for thou hast a magic tahsman 
that reveals all enchantments." Sanchica followed the lady in 
silence. They passed up through the entrance of the cavern 
into the Barbican of the gate of Justice, and thence to the 
Plaza de las Algibes, or esplanade within the fortress. This 
was all filled with Moorish soldiery, horse and foot, marshalled 
in squadrons, with banners displayed. There were royal 
guards also at the portal, and rows of African blacks with 
drawn scimitars. No one spoke a word, and Sanchica passed 
on fearlessly after her conductor. Her astonishment increased 
on entering the royal palace, in which she had been reared. 
The broad moonshine lit up all the halls, and courts, and 
gardens, almost as brightly as if it were day ; but revealed a 
far different scene from that to which she was accustomed. 
The walls of the apartments were no longer stained and rent by 
time. Instead of cobwebs, they were now hung with rich silks 
of Damascus, and the gildings and arabesque paintings were 
restored to their original brilliancy and freshness. The halls, 
instead of being naked and unfurnished, were set out with 
divans and ottomans of the rarest stuffs, embroidered with 
pearls, and studded with precious gems, and all the fountains 
in the courts and gardens were playing. 

The kitchens were again in full operation ; cooks were busied 
preparing shadowy dishes, and roasting and boiling the phan- 
toms of pullets and partridges; servants were hurrying to and 
fro with silver dishes heaped up with dainties, and arranging 
a delicious banquet. The Court of Lions was thronged with 
guards, and courtiers, and alfaquis, as in the old times of the 
Moors ; and at the upper end in the saloon of judgment, sat 
Boabdil on his throne, surrounded by his court, and swaying a 
shadowy sceptre for the night. 

Notwithstanding all this throng and seeming bustle, not a 
"voice or footstep was to be heard; nothing interrujited the mid- 
night silence but the plashing of the fountains. The little 
Sanchica followed her conductress in mute amazement about 
the palace, until they came to a portal opening to the vaulted 
passages beneath the great tower of Comares. On each side of 
the portal sat the figure of a nymph, wrought out of alabaster. 
Their heads were turned aside, and their regards fixed upon the 
same spot within the vault. The enchanted lady paused, and 
beckoned the child to her. " Here," said she, "is a great se- 
cret, which I will reveal to thee in reward for thy faith and 
courage. These discreet statues watch over a mighty treasure 



LEGEND OF TEE TWO DISCREET STATUES. 195 

hidden in old times by a Moorish king. Tell thy father to 
search the spot on which their eyes are fixed, and he will find 
what will make him richer than any man in Granada. Thy 
innocent hands alone, however, gifted as thou art also with the 
tahsman, can remove the treasure. Bid thy father use it 
discreetly, and devote a part of it to the performance 'of 
daily masses for my deliverance from this unholy enchant- 
ment." 

When the lady had spoken these words, she led the child 
onward to the little garden of Lindaraxa, w^hich is hard by the 
vault of the statues. The moon trembled upon the waters of 
the solitary fountain in the centre of the garden, and shed a 
tender light upon the orange and citron trees. The beautiful 
lady plucked a branch of myrtle and wreathed it round the 
head of the child. "Let this be a memento," said she, "of 
what I have revealed to thee, and a testimonial of its truth. 
My hour is come.— I must return to the enchanted hall; follow 
me not, lest evil befall thee ; farewell, remember what I have 
said, and have masses performed for my deliverance." So say- 
ing, the lady entered a dark passage leading beneath the tow> 
ers of Comares, and was no longer to be seen. 

The faint crowing of a cock was now heard from the cottages 
below the Alhambra, in the valley of the Darro, and a pale 
streak of light began to appear above the eastern mountains. 
A slight wind arose ; there was a sound like the rustling of dry 
leaves through the courts and corridors, and door after door 
shut to with a jarring sound. Sanchica returned to the scenes 
she had so lately beheld thronged with the shadowy multitude, 
but Boabdil and his phantom court were gone. 

The moon shone into empty halls and galleries, stripped of 
their transient splendour, stained and dilapidated by time, and 
hung with cobwebs; the bat flitted about in the uncertain 
light, and the frog croaked from the fish-pond. 

Sanchica now made the best of her way to a remote staircase 
that led up to the humble apartment occupied by her family. 
The door as usual was open, for Lope Sanchez was too poor to 
need bolt or bar : she crept quietly to her pallet, and, putting 
the m3'rtlo wreath beneath her pillow, soon fell asleep. 

In the morning she related all that had befallen her to her 
father. Lope Sanchez, however, treated the whole as a mere 
dream, and laughed at the child for her credulity. He went 
forth to his customary labours in the garden, but had not been 
tliere long when his little daughter came running to him ahnost 



196 THE ALHAMBRA. 

breathless. "Father! father !" cried she, "behold the myrtle 
wreath which the Moorish lady bound round my head." 

Lope Sanchez gazed with astonishment, for the stalk of the 
myrtle was of pure gold, and every leaf was a sparkling emer- 
ald] Being not much accustomed to precious stones, he was 
ignorant of the real value of the wreath, but he saw enough to 
convince liim that, it was something more substantial than the 
stuff that dreams are generally made of, and that at any rate 
the child had dreamt to some purpose. His first care was to 
enjoin the most absolute secrecy upon his daughter; in this 
respect, however, he was secure, for she had discretion far be- 
yond her years or sex. He then repaired to the vault where 
stood the statues of the two alabaster nymphs. He remarked 
that their heads were turned from the portal, and that the re- 
gards of each were fixed upon the same point in the interior of 
the building. Lope Sanchez could not but admire this most 
discreet contrivance for guarding a secret. He drew a line 
from the eyes of the statues to the point of regard, made a pri- 
vate mark on the wall, and then retired. 

All day, however, the mind of Lope Sanchez Avas distracted 
with a thousand cares. He could not help hovering within 
distant view of the two statues, and became nervous from the 
dread that the golden secret might be discovered. Every foot- 
step that approached the place, made him tremble. He would 
lia^ve given any thing could he but turn the heads of the statues, 
forgetting that they had looked precisel}^ in the sam.e direction 
for some hundreds of years, without any person being the 
wiser. "A plague upon them," he would say to himself, 
"they'll betray all. Did ever mortal hear of such a mode 
of guarding a secret!" Then, on hearing any one advance, he 
would steal off, as though his very lurking near the pla-'-.e 
would awaken suspicions. Then he would return cautiously, 
and peep from a distance to see if every thing was secure, but 
the sight of the statues would again call forth his indigna- 
tion. "Aye, there they stand," would he say, "always look- 
ing, and looking, and looking, just where they should not. 
Confound them ! they are just like all their sex ; if they have 
not tongues to tattle with, they'll be sure to do it with their 
eyes !" 

At length, to his relief, the long anxious day drew to a close. 
The sound of footsteps was no longer heard in the echoing 
halls of the Alhambra; the last stranger passed the threshold, 
the great portal was barred and bolted, and the bat, and the 



LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. I97 

frog, and the hooting owl gradually resumed their nightly 
vocations in the deserted palace. 

Lope Sanchez waited, however, until the night was far ad- 
vanced, before he ventured with his little daughter to the hall 
of the two nymphs. He found them looking as knowingly and 
mysteriously as ever, at the secret place of deposit. "By your 
leaves, gentle ladies, " thought Lope Sanchez as he passed be- 
tween them, ' ' I will relieve you from this charge that must 
have set so heavy in your minds for the last two or three cen- 
turies." He accordingly went to work at the part of the wall 
which he had marked, and in a httle while laid open a con- 
cealed recess, in which stood two great jars of porcelain. He 
attempted to draw them forth, but they were immovable untU 
touched by the innocent hand of his httle da.ughter. With her 
aid he dislodged them from their niche, and found to his great 
joy, that they were filled with pieces of Moorish gold, mingled 
with jewels and precious stones. Before daylight he managed 
to convey them to his chamber, and left the two guardian 
statues with their eyes still fixed on the vacant wall. 

Lope Sanchez had thus on a sudden become a rich man, but 
riches, as usual, brought a world of cares, to which he had 
hitherto been a stranger. How was he to convey away his 
wealth with safety? How was he even to enter upon the en- 
joyment of it without awakening suspicion? Now too, for the 
first time in his life, the dread of robbers entered into his mind. 
He looked with terror at the insecurity of his habitation, 
and went to work to barricade the doors and windows ; yet 
after all his precautions, he could not sleep soundly. His 
usual gaiety was at an end; he had no longer a joke or a song 
for his neighbours, and, in short, became the most miserable 
animal, in the Alhambra. His old comrades remarked this 
alteration; pitied him heartily, and began to desert him, 
thinking he must be falling into want, and in danger of look- 
ing to them for assistance ; httle did they suspect that his only 
calamity was riches. 

The wife of Lope Sanchez shared his anxiety ; but then she 
had ghostly comfort. We ought before this to have men- 
tioned, that Lope being rather a light, inconsiderate little man, 
his wife was accustomed, in all grave matters, to seek the 
counsel and ministry of her confessor, Fray Simon, a sturdy, 
broad-shouldered, blue-bearded, bullet-headed friar of the 
neighbouring convent of San Francisco, who was, in fact, the 
spiritual comforter of half the good wives of the neighbour- 



198 THE ALUAMBRA. 

hood. He was, moreover, in great esteem among divers 
sisterhoods of nuns, who requited him for his ghostly services 
by frequent presents of those httle dainties and nicknacks 
manufactured in convents, such as dehcate confections, sweet 
biscuits, and bottles of spiced cordials, found to be marvellous 
restoratives after fasts and vigils. 

Fray Simon thrived in the exercise of his functions. His 
oily skin glistened in the sunshine as he toiled up the hill of the 
Alhambra on a sultry day. Yet notwithstanding his sleek 
condition, the knotted rope round his waist showed the au- 
sterity of his self -discipline ; the multitude doffed their caps to 
him as a mirror of piety, and even the dogs scented the odour 
of sanctity that exhaled from his garments, and howled from 
their kennels aa he passed. 

Such was Fray Simon, the spiritual counsellor of the comely 
wife of Lope Sanchez, and as the father confessor is the 
domestic confidant of women in humble life in Spain, he was 
soon made acquainted, in great secrecy, with the story of the 
hidden treasure. 

The friar opened eyes and mouth, and crossed himself a 
dozen times at the news. After a moment's pause, " Daughter 
of my soul!" said he, " know that thy husband has committed 
a double sin, a sin against both state and church ! The trea- 
sure he has thus seized upon for himself, being found in the 
royal domains, belongs of course to the crown ; but being in- 
fidel wealth, rescued, as it were, from the very fangs of Satan, 
should be devoted to the church. Still, however, the matter 
may be accommodated. Bring hither the myrtle ^vreath." 

When the good father beheld it, his eyes twinkled more than 
ever, with admiration of the size and beauty of the emeralds. 
"This," said he, "being the first fruits of this discovery, 
should be dedicated to pious purposes. I will hang it up as 
a votive offering before the imago of San Francisco in our 
chapel, and will earnestly pray to him, this very night, that 
your husband be permitted to remain in quiet possession of 
your wealth." 

The good dame was delighted to make her peace with 
heaven at so cheap a rate, and the friar, putting the wreath 
under his mantle, departed with saintly steps towards his con- 
vent. 

When Lope Sanchez came home, his wife told him what had 
passed. He was excessively provoked, for he lacked his wife's 
devotion, and had for some time groaned in secret at the 



LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. 199 

domestic visitations of the friar. "Woman," said he, "what 
hast thou done ! Thou hast put every thing at hazard by thy 
tatthng." 

"What!" cried the good woman, "would you forbid my 
disburthening my conscience to my confessor?" 

" No, wife ! confess as many of your own sins as you please ; 
but as to this money-digging, it is a sin of my own, and my 
conscience is very easy under the weight of it." 

There was no use, however, in complaining ; the secret was 
told, and, like water spilled on the sand, was not again to be 
gathered. Their only chance was, that the friar would be dis- 
creet. 

The next day, while Lope Sanchez was abroad, there was an 
humble knocking at the door, and Fray Sim(^ entered with 
meek and demure countenance. 

"Daughter," said he, "I have prayed earnestly to San 
Francisco, and he has heard my prayer. In the dead of the 
night the saint appeared to me in a dream, but with a frowning 
aspect. "Why," said he, "dost thou pray to me to dispense 
with this treasure of the Gentiles, when thou seest the pov- 
erty of my chapel? Go to the house of Lope Sanchez, crave 
in my name a portion of the Moorish gold to furnish two 
candlesticks for the main altar, and let him possess the residue 
in peace.' " 

When the good woman heard of this vision, she crossed her- 
self with awe, and going to the secret place where Lope had 
hid the treasure, she filled a great leathern purse with pieces 
of Moorish gold, and gave it to the friar. The pious monk be- 
stowed upon her in return, benedictions enough, if paid by 
heaven, to enrich her race to the latest posterity ; then shp- 
ping the purse into the sleeve of his habit, he folded his hands 
upon his breast, and departed with an air of humble thankful- 
ness. 

When Lope Sanchez heard of this second donation to the 
church, he had well nigh lost his senses. " Unfortunate man,'' 
cried he, "what will become of me? I shall be robbed by 
piecemeal ; I shall be ruined and brought to beggary !" 

It was with the utmost difficulty that his wife could pacify 
him by reminding him of the countless wealth that yet re- 
mained ; and how considerate it was for San Francisco to rest 
contented with so very smaU a portion. 

Unluckily, Fray Simon had a number of poor relations to be 
provided for, not to mention some half dozen sturdy. buUet- 



200 I'^^E ALHAMBRA. 

headed orphan children and destitute foundhngs, that he had 
taken under his care. He repeated his visits, therefore, from 
day to day, with salutations on behalf of Saint Dominick, Saint 
Andrew, Saint James, until poor Lope was driven to despair, 
and found that, unless he got out of the reach of this holy friar, 
he should have to make peace offerings to every saint in the 
kalendar. He determined, therefore, to pack up his remaining 
wealth, beat a secret retreat in the night, and make off to 
another part of the kingdom. 

Full of his project, he bought a stout mule for the purpose, 
and tethered it in a gloomy vault, underneath the tower of the 
Seven Floors. The very place from whence the Bellado, or 
goblin horse without a head, is said to issue forth at midnight 
and to scour the^treets of Granada, pursued by a pack of hell- 
hounds. Lope Sanchez had little faith in the story, but availed 
himself of the dread occasioned by it, knovang that no one 
would be likely to pry into the subterranean stable of the phan- 
tom steed. He sent off his family in the course of the day, with 
orders to wait for him at a distant village of the Vega. As the 
night advanced, he conveyed his treasure to the vault under 
the tower, and having loaded his mule, he led it forth, and 
cautiously descended the dusky avenue. 

Honest Lope had taken his measures with the utmost secrecy, 
imparting them to no one but the faithful wife of his bosom. 
By some miraculous revelation, however, they became known 
to Fray Simon ; the zealous friar beheld these infidel treasures 
on the point of slipping for ever out of his grasp, and deter- 
mined to have one more dash at them for the benefit of the 
church and San Francisco. Accordingly, when the bells had 
rung for animas, and all the Allia,mbra was quiet, he stole out 
of his convent, and, descending through the gate of Justice, 
concealed himself among the tliickets of roses and laurels that 
border the great avenue. Here he remained, counting the 
quarters of hours as they were sounded on the bell of the 
watch-tower, and listening to the dreary hootings of owls, and 
the distant barking of dogs from the gipsy caverns. 

At length, he heard the tramp of hoofs, and, through the 
gloom of the overshadowing trees, imperfectly beheld a steed 
descending the avenue. The sturdy friar chuckled at the idea 
of the knowing turn he was about to serve honest Lope. Tuck- 
ing up the skirts of his habit, and wriggling like a cat watching 
a mouse, he waited until his prey was directly before him, 
when darting forth from his leafy covert, and putting one hand 



LEGEND OF THE TWO TUSCREET STATUES. 201 

on the shoulder, and the other on the crupper, he made a vault 
that would not have disgraced the most experienced master of 
equitation, and aUghted well forked astride the steed. "Aha!" 
said the sturdy friar, "we shall now see who best understands 
the game." 

He had scarce uttered the words, when the mule began to 
kick and rear and plunge, and then set off at full speed down 
the hill. The friar attempted to check him, but in vain. He 
bounded from rock to rock, and bush to bush ; the friar's habit 
was torn to ribands, and fluttered in the wind ; his shaven poll 
received many a hard knock from the branches of the trees, 
and many a scratch from the 'brambles. To add to his terror 
and distress, he found a pack of seven hounds in full cry- at his 
heels, and perceived, too late, that he was actually mounted 
upon the terrible Beilado ! 

Away they went, according to the ancient i)hi'ase, "pull 
devil, pull friar," down the great avenue, across the Plaza 
Nueva, along the Zacatin, around the Vivarambla, — never did 
huntsman and hound make a more furious run, or more infer- 
nal uproar. 

In vain did the friar invoke every saint in the kalendar, and 
the holy virgin into the bargain ; every time he mentioned a 
name of the kind, it was like a fresh application of the spur, 
and made the Beilado bound as high as a house. Through the 
remainder of the night was the unlucky Fray Simon carried 
hither and thither and whither he would not, until every bone 
in his body ached, and he suffered a loss of leo?ther too grievous 
to be mentioned. At length, the crowing of a cock gave the 
signal of returning day. At the soimd, the goblin steed wheeled 
about, and galloped back for his tower. Again he scoured the 
Vivarambla, the Zacatin, the Plaza Nueva, and the avenue of 
fountains, the seven dogs yelling and barking, and leaping up, 
and snapping at the heels of the terrified friar. The first strean 
of day had just appeared as they reached the tower ;• here the 
goblin steed kicked up his heels, sent the friar a somerset 
through the air, plunged into the dark vault followed by the 
infernal pack, and a profound silence succeeded to the late 
deafening clamour. 

Was ever so diabolical a trick played off upon holy friar? 
A peasant going to his labours at early dawn, found the unfor- 
tunate Fray Simon lying under a fig-tree at the foot of the 
tower, but so bruised and bedeviled, that he could neither 
speak nor move. He was conveyed with all care and tender- 



202 THE ALHAMBRA. 

ness to his cell, and the story went that he had been waylaid 
and maltreated by robbers. A day or two elapsed before he 
recovered the use of Ms hmbs : he consoled himself in the mean 
time, with the thoughts that though the mule with the treasure 
had escaped him, he had previously had some rare pickings ^\ 
the infidel spoils. His first care on being able to use his limbs, 
was to search beneath his pallet, where he had secreted the 
myrtle wreath and the leathern pouches of gold, extracted from 
the piety of dame Sanchez. What was his dismay at finding 
the wreath, in effect, but a withered branch of myrtle, and the 
leathern pouches filled with sand and gravel! 

Fray Simon, with all his chagrin, had the discretion to hold 
his tongue, for to betray the secret might draw on him the 
ridicule of the public, and the punishment of his supeiior; it 
was not until many years afterwards, on his death-bed, that he 
revealed to his confessor his nocturnal ride on the Bellado. 

Nothing was heard of Lope Sanchez for a long time after his 
disappearance from the Alhambra. His memory was always 
cherished as that of a merry companion, though it was feared, 
from the care and melancholy showed in his conduct shortly 
before his mysterious departure, that poverty and distress had 
driven him to some extremity. Some years afterwards, one of 
Ms old companions, an invahd soldier, being at Malaga, was 
knocked down and nearly run over by a coach and six. The 
carriage stopped; an old gentleman, magnificently dressed, 
with a bag- wig and sword, stepped out to assist the poor in- 
valid. What was the astonishment of the latter to behold in 
this grand cavalier, his old friend Lope Sanchez, who was actu- 
ally celebrating the marriage of his daughter Sanchica, with 
one of the first grandees in the land. 

The carriage contained the bridal party. There was dame 
Sanchez now grown as round as a barrel, and dressed out with 
feathers and jewels, and necklaces of pearls, and necklaces of 
diamonds, and rings on every finger, and altogether a finery of 
apparel that had not been seen since the days of Queen Sheba. 
The little Sanchica had now grown to be a woman, and for 
grace and beauty might have been mistaken for a duchess, if 
not a princess outright. The bridegroom sat beside her, rather 
a withered, spindle-shanked Mttle man, but this only proved 
Mm to be of the true blue blood, a legitimate Spanish grandee 
being rarely above three cubits in stature. The match had been 
of the mother's making. 

Eiches had not spoiled the heart of honest Lope. He kept 



MA HAMAD ABEX ALAUMAB. 203 

his old comrade with him for several days ; feasted him hke 
a king, took him to plays and bull-fights, and at length sent 
him away rejoicing, with a big bag of money for himself, and 
another to be distributed among his ancient messmates of the 
AJhambra. 

Lope always gave out that a rich brother had died in 
America, and left him heir to a copper mine, but the shrewd 
gossips of the Alhambra insist that his wealth was all derived 
from his having discovered the secret guarded by the two 
marble nymphs of the Alhambra. It is remarked, that these 
very discreet statues continue even unto the present day with 
their eyes fixed most significantly on the same part of the 
wall, which leads many to suppose there is still some hidden 
treasure remaining there, well worthy the attention of the 
enterprising traveller. Though others, and particularly all 
female visitors, regard them with great complacency, as last- 
ing monuments of the fact, that women can keep a secret. 



MAHAMAD ABEN ALAHMAR: 

THE FOUNDER OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

Having dealt so freely in the marvellous legends of the 
Alhambra, I feel as if bound to give the reader a few facts 
concerning its sober history, or rather the history of those 
magnificent princes, its founder and finisher, to whom Eu- 
rope is indebted for so beautiful and romantic an oriental 
monument. To attain these facts, I descended from this re- 
gion of fancy and fiction, where everything is liable to take an 
imaginative tint, and carried my researches among the dusty 
tomes of the old Jesuit's library in the university. This once 
boasted repository of erudition is now a mere shadow of its 
former self, having been stripped of its manuscripts and rarest 
works by the French, while masters of Granada. Still it con- 
tains, among many ponderous tomes of polemics of the Jesuit 
fathers, several curious tracts of Spanish literature, and above 
all, a number of those antiquated, dusty, parchment-bound 
chronicles, for which I have a peculiar veneration. 

In this old library I have passed many delightful hours of 
quiet, undisturbed, literary foraging, for the keys of the doors 



204 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

and bookcases were kindly entrusted to me, and I was left 
alone to rummage at my leisure — a rare indulgeiice in those 
sanctuaries of learning, which too often tantalize the thirsty 
student with the sight of sealed fountains of knowledge. 

In the course of these visits I gleaned the following particu- 
lars concerning the historical characters in question. 

The Moors of Granada regarded the Alhambra as a miracle 
of art, and had a tradition that the king who founded it dealt 
in magic, or at least was deeply versed in alchymy, by means 
Oi vs^hich, he procured the immense sums of gold expended in 
its erection. A brief view of his reign will show the real secret 
of his wealth. 

The name of this m.onarch, as inscribed on the walls of some 
of the apartments, was Aben Abd'allah {i.e. the father of 
Abdailah), but he is commonly known in Moorish history as 
Mahamad Aben Alahmar (or Mahamad son of Alahmar), or 
simply Aben Alahmar, for the sake of brevity. 

He was born in Arjona, in the year of the Hegira, 591, of the 
Christian era, 1195, of the noble family of the Beni Nasar, or 
children of Nasar, and no expense was spared "by his parents 
to fit him for the high station to which the opulence and 
dignity of his family entitled him. The Saracens of Spain 
were greatly advanced in civilization. Every principal city 
was a seat of learning and the arts, so that it was easy to com- 
mand the most enhghtened instructors for a youth of rank, 
and fortune. Aben Alahmar, when he arrived at manly years, 
was appointed Alcayde or governor of Arjona and Jaen, and 
gained great popularity by his benignity and justice. Some 
years afterwards, on the death of Aben Hud, the Moorish 
power of Spain was broken into factions, and many places 
declared for Mahamad Aben Alahmar. Being of a sanguine 
spirit and lofty ambition, he seized upon the occasion, made a 
circuit through the country, and was every where received 
with acclamation. It was in the year 1238 that he entered 
G-ranada amidst the enthusiastic shouts of the multitude. He 
was proclaimed king with every demonstration of joy, and 
soon became the head of the Moslems in Spain, being the first 
of the illustrious Hne of Beni Nasar that had sat upon the 
throne. 

His reign was such as to render him a blessing to his sub- 
jects. He gave the command of his various cities to such as 
had distinguished themselves by valour and prudence, and 
who seemed most acceptable to the people. He organized a 



MAHA3fAD ABEN ALAHMAR. 205 

vigilant police, and established rigid rules for the administra- 
tion of justice. The poor and the distressed always found 
ready admission to his presence, and he attended personally 
to their assistance and redress. He erected hospitals for tne 
bhnd, the aged, and infirm, and all those incapable of labour, 
and visited them frequently, not on set days, with pomp and 
form, so as to give time for every thing to be put in order and 
every abuse concealed, but suddenly and unexpectedly, in- 
forming himself by actual observation and close inquiry of the 
treatment of the sick, and the conduct of those appointed to 
administer to their rehef . 

He founded schools and colleges, which he visited in the 
same manner, inspecting personally the instruction of the 
youth. He established butcheries and public ovens, that the 
people might be furnished with wholesome provisions at just 
and regular prices. He introduced abundant streams of water 
into the city, erecting baths and fountains, and constmcting 
aqueducts and canals to irrigate and fertihze the Vega. By 
these means, prosperity and abundance prevailed in this beau- 
tiful city, its gates were thronged with commerce, and its 
warehouses filled with the luxuries and merchandize of every 
clime and country. 

While Mahamad Aben Alahmar was ruling his fair domains 
thus wisely and prosperously, he was suddenly menaced by 
the horrors of war. The Christians at that time, profiting 
by the dismemberment of the Moslem power, were rapidly 
regaining their ancient territories. James the Conqueror had 
subjected all Valentia, and Ferdinand the Saint was carrying 
his victorious armies into Andalusia. The latter invested the 
city of Jaen, and swore not to raise his camp until he had 
gained possession of the place. Mahamad Aben Alahmar was 
conscious of the insufficiency of his means to caiTy on a war 
with the potent sovereign of Castile. Taking a sudden resolu- 
tion, therefore, he repaired privately to the Christian camp, 
and made his unexpected appearance in the presence of king 
Ferdinand. "In me," said he, "you behold Mahamad, king 
of Granada. I confide in your good faith, and put myself 
under your protection. Take all I possess, and receive me as 
your vassal." So saying, he knelt and kissed the king's hand 
in token of submission. 

King Ferdinand was touched by this instance of confiding 
faith, and determined not to be outdone in generosity. He 
raised his late rival from the earth and embraced him as a 



206 THE ALHAMBRA. 

friend, nor would he accept the wealth he offered, but received 
him as a vassal, leaving him sovereign of his doixdnions, on 
condition of paying a yearly tribute, attending the cortes as 
one of the nobles of the empire, and serving him in war with 
a certain number of horsemen. 

It was not long after this that Mahamad was called upon for 
his military services, to aid king Ferdinand in his famous siege 
of Seville. The Moorish king salhed forth with five hundred 
chosen horsemen of Granada, than whom none in the world 
knew better how to manage the steed or wield the lance. It 
was a melancholy and humiliating service, however, for they 
had to draw the sword against their brethren of the faith. 
Mahamad gained a melancholy distinction by his prowess in tliis 
renowned conquest, but more true honour by the humanity 
which he prevailed upon Ferdinand to introduce into the usages 
of war. When in 1248, the famous city of Se^^lie surrendered to 
the Castihan monarch, Mahamad returned sad and full of care 
to his dominions. He saw the gathering ills that menaced the 
Moslem cause, and uttered an ejaculation often used by him 
in moments of anxiety and trouble: "How straitened and 
wretched would be our life, if our hope were not so spacious 
and extensive."* 

When the melancholy conqueror approached his beloved 
Granada, the people thronged forth to see him with impatient 
joy, for they loved him as a benefactor. They had erected 
arches of triumph in honour of his martial exploits, and wher- 
ever he passed he was hailed with acclamations, as El Galib, 
or the conqueror ; Mahamad shook his head when he heard the 
appellation, ' ' Wa le Galib He Aid, " exclauned he : (there is no 
conqueror but God !) From that time forward, he adopted this 
exclamation as a motto. He inscribed it on an obhque band 
across his escutcheon, and it continued to be the motto of his 
descendants. 

Mahamad had purchased peace by submission to the Chris- 
tian yoke, but he knew that where the elements were so dis- 
cordant, and the motives for hostihty so deep and ancient, it 
could not be secure or permanent. Acting therefore upon an 
old maxim, " arm thyself in peace, and clothe thyself in sum- 
mer," he improved the present interval of tranquillity by for- 
tifying his dominions and replenishing his arsenals, and by 



* " Que angoste y miserabile seria nuestra vida, sino fuera tan dilatada y espaciosa 
nuestra esperauza I ' ' 



MAHAMAD ABEN ALAIIMAR. 207 

promoting those useful arts which give wealth and real power 
to an empire. He gave premiums and privileges to the best 
artisans; improved the breed of horses and other domestic 
animals; encouraged husbandry; and increased the natural 
fertility of the soil twofold by his protection, making the lonely 
valleys of his kingdom to bloom like gardens. He fostered also 
the growth and fabrication of silk, until the looms of G-ranada 
surpassed even those of Syria in the fineness and beauty of 
their productions. He, moreover, caused the mines of gold 
and silver, and other metals found in the mountainous regions 
of his dominions, to be diligently worked, and was the first 
king of Granada who struck money of gold and silver with his 
name, taking great care that the coins should be skillfully exe- 
cuted. 

It was about this time, towards the middle of the thirteenth 
century, and just after his return from the siege of Seville, 
that he commenced the splendid palace of the Albambra: 
superintending the building of it in person, mingling frequently 
among the artists and workmen, and directing their labours. 

Though thus magnificent in his works, and great in his enter- 
prises, he was simple in his person, and moderate in his enjoy- 
ments. His dress was not merely void of splendour, but so 
plain as not to distinguish him from his subjects. His harem 
boasted but few beauties, and these he visited but seldom, 
though they were entertained with great magnificence. His 
wives were daughters of the principal nobles, and were treated 
by him as friends and rational companions ; what is more, he 
managed to make them live as friends with one another. 

He passed much of his time in his gardens ; especially in 
those of the Alhambra, which he had stored with the rarest 
plants, and the most beautiful and aromatic flowers. Here he 
dehghted himself in reading histories, or in causing them to be 
read and related to him ; and sometimes, in intervals of leisure, 
employed himself in the instruction of his three sons, for whom 
he had provided the most learned and virtuous masters. 

As he had frankly and voluntarily offered himself a tributary 
vassal to Ferdinand, so he always remained loyal to his word, 
giving him repeated proofs of fidehty and attachment. When 
that renowned monarch died in Seville, in 1254, Mahamad Aben 
Alahmar sent ambassadors to condole with his successor, 
Alonzo X., and with them a gallant train of a hundred Moorish 
cavaliers of distinguished rank, who were to attend, each bear- 
ing a lighted taper round the royal bier, during the funeral 



208 THE ALHAMBRA. 

ceremonies. This grand testimonial of respect was repeated 
by the Moslem monarch during the remamder of his life, on 
each anniversary of the death of King Fernando el Santo, when 
the hundred Moorish knights repaired from Granada to Seville, 
and took their stations with lighted tapers in the centre of the 
sumptuous cathedral round the cenotaph of the Ulusirious de- 
ceased. 

Mahamad Aben Alahmar retained his faculties and vigour 
to an advanced age. In his seventy-ninth year he took the 
field on horseback, accompanied by the flower of his chivalry, 
to resist an invasion of his territories. As the army sallied 
forth from Granada, one of the principal adalides or guides, 
who rode in the advance, accidentally broke his lance against 
the arch of the gate. The counsellors of the king, alarmed by 
this circumstance, which was considered an evil omen, en- 
treated him to return. Their supplications were ia vain. The 
king persisted, and at noon-tide the omen, say the Moorish 
chroniclers, was fatally fulfilled. Mahamad was suddenly 
struck with illness, and had nearly fallen from his horse. He 
was placed on a htter, and borne back towards Granada, but 
his illness increased to such a degree, that they were obliged to 
pitch his tent in the Vega. His physicians were filled vnth. 
consternation, not knowing what remedy to prescribe. In a 
few hours he died vomiting blood, and in violent convulsions. 
The Castilian prince, Don Phihp, brother of Alonzo X., was by 
his side when he expired. His body was embalmed, enclosed 
in a silver cofiin, and buried in the Alhambra, in a sepulchre 
of precious marble, amidst the unfeigned lamentations of his 
subjects, who bewailed him as a parent. 

Such was the enlightened patriot prince, who founded the 
Alhambra, whose name remains emblazoned among its most 
delicate and graceful ornaments, and whose memory is calcu- 
lated to inspire the loftiest associations in those who tread these 
fading scenes of his magnificence and glory. Though his un- 
dertakings were vast, and his expenditures immense, yet his 
treasury was always fuU ; and this seeming contradiction gave 
rise to the story that he was versed in magic art and possessed 
of the secret for transmuting baser metals into gold. 

Those who have attended to his domestic policy, as here set 
iorth, will easily understand the natural magic and simple 
alchymy which made his ample treasury to overflow. 



JUSEF ABUL HAOIAS. 209 



JUSEF ABUL HAGIAS: 

THE FINISHER OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

BENEATfl the governor's apartment in the Alhambra is the 
royal Mosque, where the Moorish monarchs performed their 
private devotions. Though consecrated as a Cathohc chapel, 
it still bears traces of its Moslem origin ; the Saracenic columns 
with their gilded capitals, and the latticed gallery for the 
females of the harem, may yet be seen, and the escutcheons of 
the Moorish kings are mingled on the walls with those of the 
Castilian sovereigns. 

In this consecrated place perished the illustrious Jusef Abul 
Hagias, the high-minded prince who completed the Alhambra, 
and who, for his virtues and endowments, deserves almost 
equal renown with its magnanimous founder. It is with pleas- 
ure I draw forth from the obscurity in which it has too long 
remained, the name of another of those princes of a departed 
and almost forgotten race, who reigned in elegance and splen- 
dour in Andalusia, when aU Europe was in comparative bar- 
barism. 

Jusef Abul Hagias (or, as it is sometimes written, Haxis) 
ascended the throne of Granada in the year 1333, and his per- 
sonal appearance and mental qualities were such as to win aU 
hearts, and to awaken anticipations of a beneficent and pros- 
perous reign. He was of a noble presence and great bodily 
strength, united to manly beauty. His complexion was ex- 
ceeding fair, and, according to the Arabian chroniclers, he 
heightened the gravity and majesty of his appearance by suf- 
fering his beard to grow to a dignified length, and dyeing it 
black. He had an excellent memory, well stored with science 
and erudition; he was of a lively genius, and accounted the 
best poet of his time, and his manners were gentle, affable, and 
urbane. 

Jusef possessed the courage common to all generous spirits, 
but his genius was more calculated for peace than war, and, 
though obliged to take up arms repeatedly in his time, he was 
generally unfortunate. He carried the benignity of his nature 
into warfare, prohibiting all wanton cruelty, and enjoining 
mercy and protection towards women and children, the aged 



210 THE ALHAMBRA. 

and infirm, and all friars and persons of holy and recluse Kf e. 
Among other ill-starred enterprises, he undertook a great cam- 
paign in conjunction with the king of Morocco, against the 
kings of Castile and Portugal, but was defeated in the memor- 
able battle of Salado ; a disastrous reverse which had nearly 
proved a death blow to the Moslem power in Spain. 

Jusef obtained a long truce after this defeat, during which 
time he devoted himself to the instruction of his people and the 
improvement of their morals and manners. For this purpose 
he established schools in all the villages, with simple and uni- 
form systems of education ; he obliged every hamlet of more 
than twelve houses to have a Mosque, and prohibited various 
abuses and indecorums, that had been introduced into the cere- 
monies of rehgion, and the festivals and pubhc amusements of 
the people. He attended vigilantly to the pohce of the city, 
estabhshing nocturnal guards and patrols, and superintending 
all municipal concerns. 

His attention was also directed towards finishing the great 
architectural works commenced by his predecessors, and erect- 
ing others on his own plans. The Alhambra, which had been 
founded by the good Aben Alahmar, was now completed. 
Jusef constructed the beautiful gate of Justice, forming the 
grand entrance to the fortress, which he finished in 1348. He 
likewise adorned many of the courts and halls of the palace, as 
maybe seen by the inscriptions on the walls, in which his name 
repeatedly occurs. He built also the noble Alcazar, or citadel 
of Malaga ; now unfortunately a mere mass of crumbling ruins, 
but which probably exhibited in its interior similar elegance 
and magnificence with the Alhambra. 

The genius of a sovereign stamps a character upon his time. 
The nobles of Grranada, imitating the elegant and graceful taste 
of Jusef, soon filled the city of Granada with magnificent pal- 
aces ; the halls of which were paved in Mosaic, the walls and 
ceihngs wrought in fret-work, and delicately gilded and painted 
with azure, vermihon, and other brilliant colours, or minutely 
inlaid with cedar and other precious woods; specimens of which 
have survived in all their lustre the lapse of several centuries. 

Many of the houses had fountains, which threw up jets of 
water to refresh and cool the air. They had lofty towers also, 
of wood or stone, curiously carved and ornamented, and cov- 
ered with plates of metal that ghttered in the sun. Such was 
the refined and delicate taste in architecture that prevailed 
among this elegant people ; insomuch, that to use the beautiful 



JUSEF ABUL HAOIAS. 211 

simile of an Arabian writer, "Granada, in the days of Jusef, 
was as a silver vase filled with emeralds and jacinths." 

One anecdote will be suflScient to show the magnanimity of 
this generous prince. The long truce which had succeeded the 
battle of Salado was at an end, and every effort of Jusef to 
renew it was in vain. His deadly foe, Alfonso XI. of Castile, 
took the field with great force, and laid siege to Gibraltar. 
Jusef reluctantly took up arms, and sent troops to the rehef of 
the place ; when, in the midst of his anxiety, he received tidings 
that his dreaded foe had suddenly fallen a victim to the plague. 
Instead of manifesting exultation on the occasion, Jusef caUed 
to mind the great qualities of the deceased, and was touched 
with a noble sorrow. "Alas!" cried he, "the world has lost 
one of its most excellent princes ; a sovereign who knew how 
to honour merit, whether in friend or foe !" 

The Spanish chroniclers themselves bear witness to this mag- 
nanimity. According to their accounts, the Moorish cavaliers 
partook of the sentiment of their king, and put on moui'ning 
for the death of Alfonso. Even those of Gibraltar, who had 
been so closely invested, when they knew that the hostile mon- 
arch lay dead in his camp, determined among themselves that 
no hostile movement should be made against the Christians. 

The day on which the camp was broken up, and the army 
departed, bearing the corpse of Alfonso, the Moors issued in 
multitudes from Gibraltar, and stood mute and melancholy, 
watching the mournful pageant. The same reverence for the 
deceased was observed by aU the Moorish commanders on the 
frontiers, who suffered the lunerai train to pass in safety, 
bearing the corpse of the Christian sovereign from Gibraltar to 
Seville.* 

Jusef did not long survive the enemy he had so generously 
deplored. In the year 1354, as he was one day praying in the 
royal mosque of the Alhambra, a maniac rushed suddenly 
from behind, and plunged a dagger in his side. The cries of 
the king brought his guards and courtiers to his assistance. 
They found him weltering in his blood, and in convulsions. 
He was borne to the royal apartments, but expired almost im- 



* " Y los Moros que estaban en la villa j Castillo de Gibraltar despues que aopieron 
que el Rey Don Alonzo era muerto, ordenaron entresi que ninguno non fuesse 
osado de fazer ningun movimiento contra los Christianos, nin mover pelear contra 
ellos, estovieron todos quedos y dezian entre ellos que aquel dia muriera un noble 
rey y gran principe del mundol" 



212 TEE ALHAMBEA. ^ 



5 liml 



mediately. The murderer was cut to pieces, and his 
burnt in public, to gratify the fury of the populace. ^^ Jy. . 

The body of the king was interred in a superb sepulchre of 
white marble ; a long epitaph in letters of gold upon an azure 
ground recorded his virtues. " Here lies a king and martyr of 
an illustrious line, gentle, learned and virtuous ; renowned for 
the graces of his person and his manners; whose clemency, 
piety and benevolence were extolled throughout the kingdom 
of Granada. He was a great prince, an illustrious captain ; a 
sharp sword of the Moslems ; a valiant standard-bearer among 
the most potent monarchs, " etc. 

The mosque still remains, which once resounded with the 
dying cries of Jusef, but the monument which recorded his 
virtues has long since disappeared. His name, however, re- 
mains inscribed among the ornaments of the Alhambra, and 
will be perpetuated in connection with this renowned pilOj 
which it was his pride and delight to beautify. 



1!HB BNI>« 



